Iraq Crisis and World Order

THE
Structural,
Institutional
and Normative
IRAQ
Challenges
CRISIS
AND
WORLD
ORDER
EDITED BY RAMESH THAKUR AND WAHEGURU PAL SINGH SIDHU

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The Iraq crisis and world order
This is a joint project of the United Nations University (UNU) and the
International Peace Academy (IPA), in partnership with King
Prajadhipok’s Institute
The Iraq crisis and world order:
Structural, institutional and
normative challenges
Edited by Ramesh Thakur and Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu
a United Nations
University Press
TOKYO u NEW YORK u PARIS
6 United Nations University, 2006
The views expressed in this publication are those of the authors and do not nec-
essarily reflect the views of the United Nations University.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The Iraq crisis and world order : structural, institutional and normative
challenges / edited by Ramesh Thakur and Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 9280811282 (pbk.)
1. Iraq War, 2003– 2. World politics—21st century. I. Thakur, Ramesh
Chandra, 1948– II. Sidhu, Waheguru Pal Singh.
DS79.76.I7255 2006
956.70440 31—dc22 2006019926
Contents
List of contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix
Part I: Framing the issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
1 Iraq’s challenge to world order . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

Ramesh Thakur and Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu
2 Lines in the sand: The United Nations in Iraq, 1980–2001 . . . . . 16

David M. Malone and James Cockayne
Part II: Structural and normative challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
3 The unipolar concert: Unipolarity and multilateralism in the

age of globalization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Mohammed Ayoob and Matthew Zierler
4 International peace and security and state sovereignty:

Contesting norms and norm entrepreneurs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
Brian L. Job
5 The world says no: The global movement against war

in Iraq . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
David Cortright
v
vi CONTENTS
Part III: Perspectives from within the region . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93
6 Iraq and world order: A Lebanese perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

Latif Abul-Husn
7 Iraq and world order: A Turkish perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Ayla Göl
8 Iran’s assessment of the Iraq crisis and the post-9/11

international order . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134
Anoushiravan Ehteshami
9 The Iraq crisis and world order: An Israeli perspective . . . . . . . . . 161

Mark A. Heller
10 Egypt and the Iraq war . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175

Ibrahim A. Karawan
11 Reactions in the Muslim world to the Iraq conflict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187

Amin Saikal
Part IV: External actor perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201
12 The United States and the United Nations in light of wars on

terrorism and Iraq . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
Jane Boulden and Thomas G. Weiss
13 Baghdad to Baghdad: The United Kingdom’s odyssey . . . . . . . . . 217

A. J. R. Groom and Sally Morphet
14 Explaining France’s opposition to the war against Iraq . . . . . . . . . 234

Jean-Marc Coicaud, with Hélène Gandois and Lysette
Rutgers
15 Iraq and world order: A Russian perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249

Ekaterina Stepanova
16 Iraq and world order: A German perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265

Harald Müller
17 Avoiding a strategic failure in the aftermath of the Iraq war:

Partnership in peacebuilding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
Chiyuki Aoi and Yozo Yokota
CONTENTS vii
18 Iraq and world order: A Latin American perspective . . . . . . . . . . . 298

Mónica Serrano and Paul Kenny
19 Iraq and world order: A Pakistani perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315

Hasan-Askari Rizvi
20 Iraq and world order: A perspective on NATO’s relevance . . . . 328

Fred Tanner
21 The Iraq crisis and world order: A perspective from the

European Union . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 344
Luis Martinez
22 Quicksand? The United Nations in Iraq, 2001–2005 . . . . . . . . . . . . 357

Part V: International legal and doctrinal issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379
23 The war in Iraq as illegal and illegitimate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381

David Krieger
24 Legitimacy as an assessment of existing legal standards:

The case of the 2003 Iraq war . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 397
Charlotte Ku
25 The multinational action in Iraq and international law . . . . . . . . . 413

Ruth Wedgwood
26 Iraq and the social logic of international security . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 426

Jean-Marc Coicaud
27 Justifying the Iraq war as a humanitarian intervention:

The cure is worse than the disease . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 444
Nicholas J. Wheeler and Justin Morris
28 The responsibility to protect and the war on Saddam

Hussein . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 464
Ramesh Thakur
29 Post-war relations between occupying powers and the United

Nations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 479
Simon Chesterman
viii CONTENTS
30 ‘‘Common enemies’’: The United States, Israel and the world

crisis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 497
Tarak Barkawi
Part VI: Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 517
31 Structural and normative challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 519

James Cockayne and Cyrus Samii
Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 535
Contributors
Professor Ramesh Thakur is Senior International Relations, Michigan

Vice-Rector of the United Nations State University, USA
University, Tokyo, Japan, and
Assistant Secretary-General of the Dr Tarak Barkawi is Lecturer at the
United Nations Centre of International Studies,
University of Cambridge, UK
Dr Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu is a
Faculty Member at the Geneva Dr Jane Boulden is Canada Research
Centre for Security Policy, Chair in International Relations and
Switzerland, and was formerly Security Studies, Department of
Senior Associate at the Politics and Economics, Royal
International Peace Academy Military College of Canada,
directing the Iraq Crisis and Ontario, Canada
World Order project
Dr Simon Chesterman is Executive
Dr Latif Abul-Husn is Lecturer in the Director of the Institute for
Department of Political Studies & International Law and Justice,
Public Administration, American New York University School of
University of Beirut, Lebanon Law, USA
Dr Chiyuki Aoi is Associate Professor Mr James Cockayne is an Associate at

in the School of International the International Peace Academy,
Politics, Economics and New York, USA
Communication, Aoyama Gakuin
University, Tokyo, Japan Dr Jean-Marc Coicaud is Head of the
United Nations University Office of
Dr Mohammed Ayoob is University the United Nations, New York,
Distinguished Professor of USA
ix
x CONTRIBUTORS
Dr David Cortright is president of the Dr Charlotte Ku is Executive Director

Fourth Freedom Forum, Goshen, and Executive Vice President of the
Indiana, USA American Society of International
Law, Washington, DC, USA
Professor Anoushiravan Ehteshami is
Head of the School of Government Dr David M. Malone is Assistant
and International Affairs and Deputy Minister (Global Issues),
Professor of International Relations Department of Foreign Affairs,
at Durham University, UK Canada
Ms Hélène Gandois is a PhD Dr Luis Martinez is Research Director
candidate in international relations at the Fondation National des
at St Antony’s College, Oxford Sciences Politiques (FNSP), Center
University, UK for International Studies and
Research, Paris, France
Dr Ayla Göl is Lecturer in the
Department of International Ms Sally Morphet is Visiting Professor
Politics, University of Wales, at the University of Kent,
Aberystwyth, UK Canterbury, UK
Professor A. J. R. Groom is Emeritus Dr Justin Morris is Senior Lecturer in
Professor of International Relations International Politics, Department
in the Department of Politics and of Politics and International Studies,
International Relations, University and Deputy Dean of the Faculty of
of Kent, Canterbury, UK Arts and Social Sciences, University
Dr Mark A. Heller is Director of of Hull, UK
Research at the Jaffee Center Dr Harald Müller is Director of the
for Strategic Studies, Tel-Aviv Peace Research Institute Frankfurt,
University, Israel Germany, and Professor of
Dr Brian L. Job is Professor of International Relations at the
Political Science and Director of the Johann Wolfgang Goethe
Centre of International Relations, Universität, Frankfurt am Main,
University of British Columbia, Germany
Vancouver, Canada
Professor Hasan-Askari Rizvi is an
Dr Ibrahim A. Karawan is Director independent security analyst and
of the Middle East Center and former Professor at Punjab
Professor of Political Science at the University, Lahore, Pakistan
University of Utah, Salt Lake City,
Ms Lysette Rutgers heads TaalParaat
USA
in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, a
Dr Paul Kenny is a former lecturer company that writes and edits texts
in humanities at King’s College in the field of politics and
London, University of London, UK intellectual property law
Dr David Krieger is President of the Professor Amin Saikal is Director of

Nuclear Age Peace Foundation, the Centre for Arab & Islamic
California, USA Studies (the Middle East & Central
CONTRIBUTORS xi
Asia), Australian National Professor Ruth Wedgwood is Edward

University, Canberra, Australia B. Burling Professor of
International Law and Diplomacy
Mr Cyrus Samii was formerly Senior
at the Paul H. Nitze School of
Program Officer at the International
Advanced International Studies,
Peace Academy, New York, USA,
Johns Hopkins University,
and is a PhD candidate in Political
Washington, DC, USA
Science at Columbia University,
New York, USA Dr Thomas G. Weiss is Presidential
Dr Mónica Serrano is Professor of Professor of Political Science and
Politics at the Centro de Estudios Director of the Ralph Bunche
Internacionales of El Colegio de Institute for International Studies,
México, Mexico, and Senior The Graduate Center, City
Research Associate at the Centre University of New York, USA
for International Studies, University
Dr Nicholas J. Wheeler is Professor in
of Oxford, UK
the Department of International
Dr Ekaterina Stepanova heads a Politics, University of Wales,
research group on non-traditional Aberystwyth, UK
threats at the Center for
International Security, Institute of Dr Yozo Yokota is Special Adviser
World Economy and International to the Rector, United Nations
Relations, Moscow, Russia, and is University, and Professor of
an Associate Professor in the International Law, Chuo Law
Department of World Politics, School, Tokyo, Japan
Moscow State University, Russia
Dr Matthew Zierler is Assistant
Dr Fred Tanner is Acting Director of Professor of International Relations,
the Geneva Centre for Security James Madison College, Michigan
Policy, Switzerland State University, USA
Part I
Framing the issues
1
Iraq’s challenge to world order
Ramesh Thakur and Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu
The United Nations (UN) is a collective instrument for organizing a vol-

atile and dangerous world on a more predictable and orderly basis than
would be possible without the existence of the international organization.
It is the symbol of humanity’s hopes and dreams for a more secure world.
If it did not exist, the United Nations surely would have to be invented.
Most people still look to the United Nations as our best hope for a shared
future, especially if it could be reformed to reflect today’s needs and reali-
ties. Yet, if some of its fiercest critics are to be believed, the damage the
United Nations causes is such that it deserves to be de-invented.
Indeed, because of these divergent views, the basis of world order, with
the United Nations at the centre of the system of global governance, has
come under increasing strain in recent years. One reason for this is in-
flated expectations of what the United Nations could accomplish. A sec-
ond is that threats to peace and security and obstacles to economic devel-
opment lie increasingly within rather than between states. A third is the
growing gravity of threats rooted in non-state actors, including but not
limited to terrorists. A fourth is the growing salience of weapons of mass
destruction that, in their reach and destructiveness, challenge the basis of
the territorial state. And the fifth is the growing disparity between the
power of the United States and that of all other states, and the challenge
that this poses to the Westphalian fiction of sovereign states equal in sta-
tus, capacity, power and legitimacy.
The Iraq war of March 2003 was a multiple assault on the foundations
and rules of the existing UN-centred world order as well as the critical
3
4 RAMESH THAKUR AND WAHEGURU PAL SINGH SIDHU
transatlantic relationship. Post-war Iraq confirms that it is easier to wage

war without UN blessing than it is to win the peace – but victory in war is
pointless without a resulting secure peace. Speaking to the General As-
sembly on 23 September 2003, Secretary-General Kofi Annan noted that
‘‘we have come to a fork in the road . . . a moment no less decisive than
1945 itself, when the United Nations was founded’’.1 In a number of key
meetings during and after World War II, world leaders drew up rules to
govern international behaviour and established a network of institutions,
centred on the United Nations, to work together for the common good.
Both the rules and the institutions – the system of global governance
with the United Nations as the core – face an existential challenge. On
the one hand, Annan noted, the Iraq war could set a precedent for the
‘‘proliferation of the unilateral and lawless use of force’’. On the other
hand, he asked to what extent states might be resorting to unilateral in-
struments because of a loss of faith in ‘‘the adequacy and effectiveness of
the rules and instruments’’ at their disposal. Consequently, the Iraq crisis
became the primary motivation for Annan to announce the establishment
of the High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change.2 Although
the mandate for the Panel did not explicitly mention the need to examine
the crucial relationship between the United Nations and the United
States, possibly its single most important member, there is no doubt that
most of the deliberations as well as the recommendations of the report
were informed by the state of relations between these two key actors in
the world order.3
Relations between the United States and

the United Nations
The relationship between the United Nations and the United States is as
critical as it is difficult to get right. The central challenge of global gover-
nance is a double disconnect. First, there is a disconnect between the dis-
tribution of ‘‘hard’’ and ‘‘soft’’ power in the real world, on the one hand,
and the distribution of decision-making authority in the existing intergov-
ernmental institutions, on the other. The second disconnect is between
the numbers and types of actor playing ever-expanding roles in civil, po-
litical and economic affairs within and among nations and the concentra-
tion of decision-making authority in intergovernmental institutions.
In turn this has provoked a double crisis of legitimacy. With regard to
the second disconnect, legitimacy is the conceptual rod that grounds the
exercise of power by public authorities in the consent of the people, so
the circuit is broken with the growing gulf between the will of the people
and the actions of governments. As regards the first disconnect, legiti-
IRAQ’S CHALLENGE TO WORLD ORDER 5
macy is the conceptual rod that connects power to authority, so the cir-
cuit is broken when power and authority diverge. The dominant power
of the United States – military, economic, cultural, educational and
media – is the characteristic of contemporary international relations. The
United States has an unparalleled capacity to use its ‘‘hard’’ and ‘‘soft’’
power to push its own agenda. Without Washington’s participation, the
provision of global public goods is impossible. Although major powers
have always been able to play more important roles than lesser powers,
the US capacity at present is historically unique for the Westphalian
order.
The United States is the world’s indispensable power; the supreme
power and the hyper-power are other synonyms that have been used in
recent times to describe this phenomenon. But the United Nations is the
world’s indispensable institution, with unmatched legitimacy and author-
ity, together with convening and mobilizing power. The Security Council
is the core of the international law enforcement system and the chief body
for building, consolidating and using the authority of the international
community. For any international enforcement action to be efficient, it
must be legitimate; for it to be legitimate, it must be in conformity with
international law; for it to conform to international law, it must be consis-
tent with the UN Charter. There will be times when UN-centred inter-
national diplomacy must be backed up by the credible threat of force.
This can come only from the United States and its allies. In truth, the
maintenance of world order since 1945 has depended more on US than
UN ability and will. But the will to wage war will weaken if force is used
recklessly, unwisely and prematurely. Progress towards a world of a
rules-based, civilized international order requires that US force be put
to the service of lawful international authority.
The United Nations is the main embodiment of the principle of multi-
lateralism and the principal vehicle for the pursuit of multilateral goals.
After World War II, Washington was the chief architect of the normative
structure of world order based on the international rule of law. There
was, alongside this, deep and widespread confidence in the United States
as a fundamentally trustworthy, balanced and responsible custodian of
world order, albeit with occasional lapses and eccentricities. In the past
few years Washington has engaged in a systematic belittling, denigrating
and hollowing out of a whole series of treaties with respect to nuclear
weapons, landmines, international criminal prosecution, climate change
and other regimes. In Iraq, the United States signalled that it would play
by the rules of the world security institution that it helped create if, but
only if, that institution bends to America’s will. Coming after years of
US exceptionalism, this united most of the rest of the world against
American unilateralism.
The United Nations has the primary responsibility to maintain inter-

national peace and security, and is structured to discharge this responsi-
bility in a multipolar world where the major powers have permanent
membership of the key collective security decision-making body, namely
the UN Security Council. The emergence of the United States as the sole
superpower after the end of the Cold War distorted the structural bal-
ance in the UN schema. The ending of the Cold War also shifted the bal-
ance away from inter-state warfare to intra-state conflicts. The double
question for the decision makers in Washington often became one of
determining:
whether US security and political interests were better served by en-
gaging with distant and possibly inconsequential conflicts unilaterally,
or through UN peace operations, or not at all; and
whether the consequences of this choice for the United Nations’ au-
thority and capacity to keep the peace would have any rebound effects
on the United States itself.
The Security Council is the proper locus for authorizing and legitimiz-
ing the creation, deployment and use of military force under interna-
tional auspices. But it is singularly ill suited to take charge of the com-
mand and control of fighting forces. The United Nations’ own panel on
peacekeeping concluded that ‘‘the United Nations does not wage war’’.4
Accordingly, the burden of responsibility for international military en-
gagement typically falls on the United States and its allies, which, as the
world’s most powerful group, often can make the greatest difference.
What is the optimal ‘‘mode of articulation’’ between the United Nations
as the authoritative custodian of international peace and world order and
the United States as its de facto underwriter? Many American decision
makers find it difficult to understand why countries that do not contribute
a ‘‘fair share’’ of the military burden should be given any determining
role in deciding on the deployment of US military forces. In 1992, Ri-
chard Cheney, then Defense Secretary in the administration of George
H. W. Bush, remarked that critics of the United States should remember
that world order was maintained by the United States, not the United
Nations. As William Pfaff notes, the statement reflected two dominant
American views. First, given its history of isolationism, the United States
did not seek such a role but accepted the responsibility (flowing from
its power) thrust upon it after World War II. Second, the United States
is uniquely qualified to be the sole superpower because it is a virtuous
power.5
One of the main reasons for the US rejection of the League of Nations
after World War I was fear of an automatic requirement to use military
force as decided by the League. The symbolic shift of the world organiza-
tion’s headquarters after World War II from Geneva to New York did
not lessen the innate American suspicion of overseas entanglements at

others’ behest. As Sarah Sewell notes, the United Nations remains a
lightning rod for many US concerns about distracting entanglements of
US forces overseas.6 The US Congress was careful to enunciate that de-
cisions by the Security Council could not encroach upon the internal con-
stitutional distribution of war-making power in the United States.
Operation Desert Storm, launched in 1991 to expel Iraqi troops from
Kuwait, generated unwarranted and unsustainable optimism about the
centrality of the United Nations in the new world order, and about the
degree to which the United States was prepared to place its military
power at the disposal of the United Nations. This idealism was ephem-
eral because it was based on a unique confluence of circumstances that
had produced a fortuitous conjunction of national US interests and the
international interest. President George H. W. Bush left office on a cau-
tiously optimistic note with regard to US–UN relations in the realm
of international peace operations. The initial, naive enthusiasm of the
succeeding Clinton administration, which assumed office committed to
enlarging US involvement in expanding UN peace operations, quickly
faded in the face of hard realities, notably the complexities of external in-
tervention in civil wars. Since then it has become evident that the admin-
istration of the day must grapple with five interlinked and challenging
questions concerning when and how Washington should:
1. offer political support to UN missions;
2. provide military assistance to them;
3. participate in possible combat operations through them;
4. enhance the peacekeeping credentials of the United Nations; and
5. opt for military action outside the UN framework.
The five policy dilemmas suggest that the division between unilateralism
and multilateralism in American foreign policy with respect to interna-
tional peace operations is a false dichotomy. The relationship is dynamic,
not static; and multifaceted, not unidimensional. The United States re-
mained essentially multilateral throughout the 1990s. Significant signs of
unilateralism surfaced only in 2001, after President George W. Bush took
office. But what did change over the course of the 1990s was the central-
ity of the United Nations in the US scheme of multilateralism. Learning
from experience in a world no longer divided by the Cold War blocs
yet facing messy internal conflicts, Washington progressively divided
its multilateral impulse between the United Nations as the global mobi-
lizing and legitimizing organization, the North Atlantic Treaty Organiza-
tion (NATO) as the strategic enforcement arm for peace operations in
Europe, and ad hoc coalitions of the willing for theatres beyond NATO’s
traditional area of operations. Outside Europe, Washington progressively
retrenched from direct participation in UN peacekeeping, but not neces-
sarily from all forms of involvement in them. At the end of the spectrum,
if the United Nations is unable or unwilling to acquit itself of the ‘‘re-
sponsibility to protect’’7 victims of genocide, ethnic cleansing or other
egregious humanitarian atrocities, Washington can forge multilateral co-
alitions of the willing to lead military interventions to stop the atrocities.
Multilateralism – the coordination of relations among several states
in accordance with certain principles (such as sovereign equality)8 –
remains important to US foreign policy and the United States remains
the pivot of multilateral action in the maintenance of international peace
and security. Because the world is essentially anarchic, it is fundamen-
tally insecure, characterized by strategic uncertainty and complexity re-
sulting from too many actors with multiple goals and interests and variable
capabilities and convictions. Collective action embedded in international
institutions that mirror mainly American value preferences and interests
enhances predictability, reduces uncertainty and cuts the transaction costs
of international action in the pursuit of US foreign policy. ‘‘America
First’’ nationalists are sceptical of the value of the United Nations to US
foreign policy, viewing it more as a constraint. Why should US power be
harnessed to the goals of others? Multilateralism implies bargaining and
accommodation, and compromise is integral to such multilateral negotia-
tion. But US power and assets are such that Washington does not need to
compromise on core values and interests. Liberal institutionalists, in con-
trast, believe that multilateral organizations can externalize such bedrock
US values as respect for the rule of law, due process and human rights.
Multilateralism rests on assumptions of the indivisibility of the benefits of
collective public goods such as peace (as well as international telecom-
munications, transportation, and so on) and diffuse reciprocity (whereby
collective action arrangements confer an equivalence of benefits, not on
every issue and every occasion, but in aggregate and over time).9
US power, wealth and politics are too deeply intertwined with the
cross-currents of international affairs for disengagement to be a credible
or sustainable policy posture for the world’s only superpower. In their in-
sular innocence and in-your-face exceptionalism,10 Americans had long
embraced the illusion of security behind supposedly impregnable lines of
continental defence. The terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 proved
the vulnerability of the US homeland to quarrels rooted in complex con-
flicts in distant lands.
If isolationism is not an option in today’s globally interconnected
world, unilateralism – the robust use of military force to project US inter-
ests and promote American values overseas – cannot be the strategy of
choice either. Like the two world wars, the ‘‘war’’ against global terror-
ism is neither one from which America can stay disengaged, nor one that
it can win on its own, nor is it one that can be won without full US en-
gagement.11 A world in which every country retreated into unilateralism

would not provide a better guarantee of US national security, now and
for the foreseeable future, than do multilateral regimes.
Exceptionalism is also deeply flawed. Washington cannot construct a
world in which all others have to obey universal norms and rules, where-
as the United States can opt out whenever, as often, and for as long as it
likes with respect to nuclear tests, landmines, international criminal pros-
ecution, climate change and other regimes. Richard Haass, former Direc-
tor of the Policy Planning Unit at the US State Department, called this ‘‘a
la carte multilateralism’’,12 and some others privately call it, even more
insultingly, ‘‘disposable multilateralism’’.
In the case of non-UN operations, the United States would prefer
to obtain the legitimating approbation of the United Nations if possible,
in the form of enabling UN Security Council resolutions authorizing the
operations. But the United States is most unlikely to accept a prior Secu-
rity Council resolution as a mandatory requirement for the use of military
force overseas. The problematic element in this comes from the equally
compelling US interest in promoting the norm of the United Nations
being the only collective legitimator of international military action.
Washington thus faces an unresolved and irreconcilable dilemma be-
tween instilling the principle of multilateralism as the world order norm,
and exempting itself from the same principle because of its sustaining and
enduring belief in exceptionalism, in its identity as the virtuous power.
The contradiction came to a head in 2003 in relation to the Iraq
war. Most non-Americans found it difficult to see how one country could
enforce UN resolutions by defying the authority of the world body,
denigrating it as irrelevant and belittling its role in reconstruction efforts
after the war. As the year drew to a close, the future and prestige of
the United Nations were under scrutiny as never before. The Iraq war
proved to be doubly damaging to the United Nations. Those who went
to war condemned the world organization for lacking the courage of its
convictions with regard to 12 years of Security Council resolutions de-
manding full Iraqi compliance. Those who opposed the war condemned
the United Nations for lacking the courage of its convictions as an anti-
war organization by not censuring an illegal war and punishing the
aggressors.
Was the war inevitable?
In September 2002 President George W. Bush famously warned the

United Nations of irrelevance if the organization failed to enforce its res-
olutions on recalcitrant outlaws. The confusing compromises of multi-
lateralism were cornered by the moral clarity of an administration willing

to distinguish good from evil and determined to promote one and destroy
the other. For Washington, the issues could hardly have been more seri-
ous. Could one of the world’s most brutal regimes be permitted to remain
in power until it succeeded in acquiring the world’s most destructive
weapons? The concurrent crisis with North Korea proved the wisdom of
dealing with Saddam Hussein before he got his hands on nuclear or other
equally powerful weapons – for it would have been next to impossible to
defang him after he had usable weapons of mass destruction and delivery
systems.13 America’s threat of war, unilaterally if necessary, galvanized
the United Nations into putting teeth into the inspection machinery and
produced unprecedented cooperation from the Iraqis.
However, cooperation from Baghdad would not have lasted forever.
Based on all previous experience, international pressure would have
slackened with the passage of time, and Saddam would have returned
to his familiar game of cheat, deny, defy and retreat. His survival after
full US military mobilization would have gravely dented US global credi-
bility. In that case, the United Nations, with no independent military ca-
pability, would have lost its most potent enforcement agent (the United
States) even as other would-be tyrants would have been emboldened.
The resulting political backlash in the United States would have imper-
illed continued American membership, and the United Nations would
have become the twenty-first century’s League of Nations.
The contrary argument accepted UN authorization as necessary,
but not sufficient, and preferred UN irrelevance to complicity. For all its
moral authority, many feared that the United Nations lacks moral clarity.
The record of the Security Council is not especially notable for a sense of
moral compass and the courage of international convictions. There was a
growing sentiment that, if the United Nations was bribed and bullied into
submission and sanctioned war, the legitimacy of the United Nations
itself, as the guardian of the rule of law and the protector of the weak,
would have been eroded instead of being stamped on military action
against Iraq. People look to the United Nations to stop war, not to wage
one, especially one based on the revolutionary doctrine of pre-emption.
In the ensuing six months leading up to the war, instead of a pro forma
test of UN relevance, the agenda shifted to being a litmus test of US le-
gitimacy. In the end, the US argument failed to carry the world. Among
the reasons for the strong worldwide anti-war sentiment were doubts
over the justification for going to war; anxiety about the human toll, un-
controllable course and incalculable consequences of war in an already
inflamed and extremely volatile region; and scepticism that the United
States would stay engaged – politically, economically and militarily – for
the years of reconstruction required after a war. Washington found it es-
pecially difficult to convince others of the need to go to war – against Iraq
rather than against other states that posed a clearer and more present
danger in their programmes of weapons of mass destruction or in their
culpability with respect to links to international terrorism, and now
rather than later – and did not help its cause by a continually shifting jus-
tification. The costs incurred, even before the war began, included fis-
sures in the three great institutions of peace and order since World War
II: the United Nations, NATO and the European Union.
Moreover, the war (without UN authorization), though swift and deci-
sive, does not appear to have been as effective as the threat of war. The
ousting of Saddam Hussein might eventually pave the way for a brighter
future for Iraqis but the credibility and authority of the United Nations
appear to have been gravely damaged, and it is not clear that the prestige
of the United States has been greatly enhanced. There was grave disquiet
that the United Nations was being subverted by the US agenda, and that
it risked becoming to the United States what the Warsaw Pact was to the
old Soviet Union: a collective mechanism for legitimizing the dominant
power’s hegemonism. In a worrying portent for the United Nations, sig-
nificant groups in many countries voiced the heretical thought that
they would not have supported a war against Iraq even if backed by the
United Nations. For many of them, the United Nations subsequently
largely legitimized the Iraq war through its recognition and endorsement
of the aftermath of the Iraq war, in particular the occupation of the coun-
try by the coalition forces and the transfer of Iraqi sovereignty to the
transitional government.
Iraq as a political earthquake
Wars are cataclysmic events. Out of the destruction of major wars

emerge new fault-lines of international politics. To this extent, wars are
the international, political equivalent of earthquakes, eruptions on the
surface reflecting deeper underlying seismic shifts in the pattern of major
power relations. The Cold War was unusual because of the longevity
of the conflict and because of the peaceful manner in which it ended.
The tectonic shifts ushered in by the realignment of forces after the Cold
War were all the more significant, but they were hidden from view for an
unusually long time because of the peaceful resolution. It took the 9/11
terrorist attacks to force the pace of change and sharpen the new post–
Cold War contours of international politics. This new shape became
more visible after the Iraq war.
The most pressing task in ‘‘post-war’’ Iraq became to stabilize the secu-
rity situation, establish a transitional political authority, initiate the nec-
essary steps for post-war reconstruction, peacebuilding and reconcilia-
tion, and embed these in durable institutions and structures sufficiently
resilient to survive the withdrawal of a foreign presence in due course.

The larger goal in the region was to assuage the humiliation inflicted on
the collective Arab identity, deal with legitimate Palestinian grievances
with the same mix of boldness and firmness shown in Iraq, impress upon
the Arab world in general the need for deep political, social and eco-
nomic reforms, eradicate terrorism from the region, and assure Israel’s
long-term security and survival.
There was also the larger question of the changing nature of threats
in the modern world, the inadequacy of existing norms and laws in ad-
dressing such threats, and thus the need for new ‘‘rules of the game’’ to
replace them. The urgent task was to devise an institutional framework
that could marry prudent anticipatory self-defence to the centuries-old
dream of a world in which force is put to the service of law, which pro-
tects the innocent without shielding the criminals.
This is why the Iraq war has the potential to reshape the bases of world
order in fundamental, profound and long-lasting ways. For, arguably, the
Bush administration seeks to replace:
self-defence (wars of necessity) with preventive aggression (wars of
choice);
the tried, tested and successful strategy of containment with the
untried, untested, potentially destabilizing yet possibly unavoidable
doctrine of pre-emption;
negative deterrence with positive compulsion;
non-proliferation and disarmament, as represented in the Treaty on
the Non-proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT) package, with non-
proliferation on its own;
universal non-proliferation as per the NPT with differentiated non-
proliferation, where the proliferating countries’ relationship with the
NPT is subordinated to their relations with the United States. US-
friendly countries such as Israel are not on the list of countries of con-
cern, whereas US-hostile countries are grouped into the ‘‘axis of evil’’
and US-ambivalent/neutral countries such as India become objects of
watchful caution;
a multilateral system of global governance centred on the United Na-
tions with a unilateral system of US pre-eminence;
leadership by consent-cum-persuasion with leadership by command
and control;
the European search for a new world order, based on the Kantian tran-
sition from barbarism to culture through liberal institutionalism, with
the old world order, discarded by Europe after centuries of increas-
ingly destructive warfare, based on force of arms; and
the Westphalian order of sovereign and equal states with a post-
Westphalian order of one pre-eminent if virtuous power.
The long list of fundamental changes suggests that we will continue to

live in interesting times. It is difficult to deny that many of today’s institu-
tions and systems are indeed out of date and incapable of meeting con-
temporary challenges. Even if Washington was wrong with regard to the
particular case of Iraq, it may still be right in respect of the general argu-
ment about the institutionalized incapacity of existing mechanisms to
cope with today’s changed and fast-changing threats. The evolution of
institutions of international governance has lagged behind the rapid
emergence of collective problems with on-border and cross-border di-
mensions. Any one intervention does not simply violate the sovereignty
of any given target state in any one instance; it also challenges the
principle of a society of states resting on a system of well-understood
and habitually obeyed rules. Does the solution – or even one possible
solution – to this lie in amending existing rules and institutions? If these
are incapable of change, do they deserve to be abandoned? Or should
they be jettisoned only when replaced by new and improved successor
laws and institutions, because otherwise, in the resulting authority vac-
uum, anarchy rules – and this is not acceptable? If regime change is to
be a legitimate goal, must we make the argument for that, agree on the
criteria of legitimate statehood, and amend or replace the UN Charter
accordingly? The report of the UN Secretary-General’s High-level Panel
on Threats, Challenges and Change is both an acknowledgement of this
dilemma as well as a valiant, if partial, effort to address it.
Outline of the book
The key questions provoked by the above observations are: was the Iraq
war a symptom of tectonic change or, alternatively, was it an event that
might precipitate a collapse of the current world order? That is, do we
need to think in terms of an impending paradigmatic shift, or will modifi-
cations to the current architecture suffice?
In the wake of Iraq, how will key countries, significant regional orga-
nizations and surviving international institutions deal with an unfamiliar
post-Westphalian order of one pre-eminent if virtuous power? How will
the growing divergence between legality and legitimacy, which bitterly
divided not only the international community but also domestic opinion,
be bridged in the course of this significant transition?
To address these issues, the volume begins with a historical chapter
that examines the origins of the Iraq crisis in 1980. This chapter draws at-
tention to two critical moments in the story: first, the Security Council’s
inadequate, indeed misguided, reaction to Iraq’s attack on Iran in 1980;
and, second, the unilateral imposition by France, the United Kingdom

and the United States of ‘‘no-fly zones’’ over Iraq in early 1991 and the
launch of Operation Provide Comfort, a harbinger of unilateral initia-
tives that would sunder the unity of the Security Council’s purpose and
decisions on Iraq after 1998. The rest of the volume is divided into area
and thematic/conceptual chapters.
Part II examines some crucial structural and normative issues in the
light of the Iraq crisis: unipolarity and Westphalian sovereignty; the dis-
connect between threats to international peace and security and state
sovereignty; and the rise of a global public opinion against the war. The
six chapters in Part III offer perspectives from Iraq’s immediate neigh-
bourhood – the so-called broader Middle East – and examine the impli-
cations of the ongoing Iraq crisis for the key countries in the region and
their evolving relationships with both the UN-centred world order as well
as the United States. Part IV provides perspectives on the Iraq crisis from
further afield. It looks at the role played by four of the permanent five
members of the Security Council (the United States, the United King-
dom, France and Russia), as well as by Germany, Japan, Pakistan, Latin
America, NATO, the European Union and the UN Security Council
throughout the Iraq crisis and the implications of their actions in the
emerging world order. Part V looks at the legal and doctrinal implica-
tions of the Iraq war, including the responsibility to protect norms; the
universalization of human rights norms; the international use of force
and the legality and legitimacy of the war on Iraq; and post-war relations
between occupying powers and the United Nations.
Conclusion
The United States has global power, soft as well as hard; the United Na-
tions is the fount of international authority. Progress towards interna-
tional civilization requires that US power be harnessed to UN authority,
so that force is put to the service of law. Through their bitter separation
over Iraq, the United States and the United Nations provoked a legiti-
macy crisis about both US power and UN authority. The United States’
certainty of moral clarity – values that it espouses and principles in de-
fence of which it is prepared to stand up and be counted – put the US
leadership on a course that seriously eroded its moral authority in the ex-
ercise of world power. The United Nations’ lack of a sense of moral clar-
ity diminished its moral authority. The United Nations is the arena
for collective action, not a forum where nations that are unable to do
anything individually get together to decide that nothing can be done
collectively.
Notes
1. The text of the Secretary-General’s address can be found at hhttp://www.un.org/apps/sg/

printsgstats.asp?nid=517i.
2. Ibid.
3. The report of the Panel can be found at hhttp://www.un.org/secureworld/i.
4. Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, UN Doc. A/55/305-S/2000/809,
21 August 2000, para. 53.
5. William Pfaff, ‘‘Europe Is Unqualified for the World Role It Seeks’’, International Her-
ald Tribune, 26–27 May 2001.
6. Sarah B. Sewell, ‘‘Multilateral Peace Operations’’, in Stewart Patrick and Shepard For-
man, eds, Multilateralism and US Foreign Policy: Ambivalent Engagement (Boulder,
CO: Lynne Rienner, 2002), p. 209.
7. The phrase is from The Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International Com-
mission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (Ottawa: International Development
Research Centre for ICISS, 2001). Ramesh Thakur served as one of the ICISS
Commissioners.
8. John G. Ruggie, ‘‘Multilateralism: The Anatomy of an Institution’’, in John G. Ruggie,
ed., Multilateralism Matters: The Theory and Praxis of an Institutional Form (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1993), pp. 8–11.
9. Robert Keohane, ‘‘Reciprocity in International Relations’’, International Organization,
Vol. 40, No. 1 (Winter 1986), pp. 1–27.
10. For the importance of the sense of exceptionalism in US foreign policy, see Samuel P.
Huntington, ‘‘American Ideals versus American Institutions’’, in G. John Ikenberry,
ed., American Foreign Policy: Theoretical Essays (3rd edn, New York: Longman,
1999), pp. 221–253.
11. See Ramesh Thakur and Hans van Ginkel, ‘‘An International Perspective on Global
Terrorism’’, United Nations Chronicle, Vol. 38, No. 3 (September–November 2001),
pp. 71–73.
12. Quoted in Thom Shanker, ‘‘Bush’s Way: ‘A la Carte’ Approach to Treaties’’, Interna-
tional Herald Tribune, 1 August 2001.
13. The issue of ‘‘weapons of mass destruction’’ was the focus of the second workshop of
this project held in Japan on 18–23 October 2004, starting at the Asia-Pacific University
in Beppu and concluding at Ritsumeikan University in Kyoto. That work will be pub-
lished as a companion volume to this book: Arms Control after Iraq: Normative and Op-
erational Challenges, edited by Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu and Ramesh Thakur (Tokyo:
United Nations University Press, forthcoming).
2
Lines in the sand: The United
Nations in Iraq, 1980–2001
Introduction
Since the establishment of the United Nations almost 60 years ago, some
situations have remained almost permanently on the agenda of the Secu-
rity Council – most obviously the Israeli–Palestinian conflict, Kashmir
and Cyprus. In the past 20 years, however, it has been Iraq – even more
than the splintering conflicts in the Balkans – that has provided a staple
item of Security Council meeting agendas. The United Nations has been
engaged with Iraq since the outbreak of its war with Iran in 1980, and has
had an on-the-ground presence in Iraq since 1988, when it stepped in to
monitor a ceasefire between Iran and Iraq, through to the present. The
form of that presence has changed significantly, from a truce-monitoring
group, to a coalition of states assembled under a Security Council man-
date to repel Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait, to weapons inspections, sanctions
enforcement and now political brokerage, electoral assistance and state-
building.
The role of the United Nations in managing the Iraq crisis of 2003 –
and its aftermath – can be fully understood only in this historical context.
The Iraq crisis of 2003 was the climax of a drama that has engaged the
United Nations, and particularly the Security Council, for almost a quar-
ter of a century – a little less than half of the life of the United Nations.
To understand the implications of the 2003 crisis for the United Nations’
role, not simply in Iraq but more broadly in maintaining world order,
we must understand how this drama has shaped the role of the United
16
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 17
Nations. United Nations peace operations in Iraq since 1980 offer a

unique window on the changing role of the United Nations in world or-
der, particularly as envisaged and realized by the Security Council. Each
new peace operation in Iraq has framed, in microcosm, a new role for the
United Nations in managing threats to international peace and security
and maintaining world order: from border monitor to sanctions enforcer,
from peace broker to peace builder.
This chapter seeks to place the role of the United Nations in the Iraq
crisis of 2003 and its aftermath in this historical context. In this chapter,
we describe five phases of UN involvement in Iraq from 1980 to 2001. In
the first phase, the United Nations acted as Cold War peace keeper,
using its neutral position to broker peace between Iran and Iraq and then
to monitor the peace it had brokered. In the second phase, the United
Nations’ universal legitimacy provided the basis for an international
police action, led by the United States, when Iraq invaded Kuwait in
1990. As a result, UN member states adopted a more assertive stance in
peace operations. This played out immediately, in a third phase, in the
creation of a border-monitoring force, the United Nations Iraq–Kuwait
Observation Mission (UNIKOM), modelled on earlier peacekeeping
lines but grafted on to a Chapter VII mandate. This muscular peacekeep-
ing seemed to herald, in President George H. W. Bush’s words, a New
World Order. The complex realities of this order – with its challenges of
internal conflicts, global media coverage of human rights violations and
UN paralysis on peace enforcement – became clear only in the years
that followed. A fourth phase saw the United Nations adopt a more multi-
disciplinary approach to peacekeeping, reflected in operations such as the
deployment of UN Guards to northern Iraq, and also saw increased will-
ingness by Western powers to act outside, or at the edges of, the author-
ity provided by UN Security Council resolutions, as was made clear by
both Operation Provide Comfort in northern Iraq and the no-fly zone in
southern Iraq. As a result, the United Nations was drawn in two different
directions during a fifth period of evolution of peace operations in Iraq.
The Security Council increasingly played the role of global regulator,
setting down and enforcing detailed administrative standards to control
Iraqi military capacity; at the same time, the UN system more broadly
(including a number of its programmes and agencies) increasingly took
on the role of proxy administration in areas not under sovereign control.
This chapter draws attention to two critical moments in the story,
whose significance was overlooked at the time: first, the Security Coun-
cil’s inadequate, indeed misguided, reaction to Iraq’s attack on Iran in
1980, which doubtless contributed to Saddam Hussein’s contempt for the
United Nations; and, second, the unilateral imposition by France, the
United Kingdom and the United States of no-fly zones over Iraq in early
18 DAVID M. MALONE AND JAMES COCKAYNE
1991 and the launch of Operation Provide Comfort, a harbinger of

unilateral initiatives to come that would sunder the unity of the Security
Council’s purpose and decisions on Iraq after 1998. More systemically,
the chapter examines a drift of the Council towards regulatory and
administrative approaches to conflict prevention and humanitarian miti-
gation – approaches it may not yet possess the capacity to discharge
well. In our later chapter (Chapter 22), we continue the story from this
point, and provide more extensive analysis of the implications for the fu-
ture of UN peace operations of the United Nations’ current engagement
with Iraq.
Iran–Iraq: Cold War peacekeeping

The United Nations’ initial engagement with Iraq in 1980 fitted neatly
into the pattern that emerged during the Cold War of diplomatic good
offices of the Secretary-General and limited military peacekeeping oper-
ations. Article 42 of the UN Charter had proposed the establishment of
a body of national military forces available on the Security Council’s call
as the instrument of collective security. Cold War antagonisms soon frus-
trated the realization of that vision, while simultaneously increasing the
need for an independent and impartial actor on the world stage that
could ensure that conflicts did not spiral out of control and further fuel
the confrontation between the capitalist and communist camps. In re-
sponse, the United Nations used its neutral position and moral authority
to broker consensual peace, where possible, improvising peacekeeping
operations to act as buffers between warring parties. These ‘‘blue hel-
mets’’ (as they came to be known) were peace keepers not peace en-
forcers; they were said to draw their mandate not from Chapter VII but
from ‘‘Chapter VI and a half’’,1 since they required an invitation or con-
sent from the recipient state(s). They operated under UN command,
mostly undertaking activities agreed upon by belligerents, such as the
cantonment and separation of warring parties, border monitoring, over-
sight of the withdrawal of foreign troops, and monitoring of the cessation
of aid to irregular or insurrectionist movements. Cold War peace opera-
tions were guided by the principle that they must not give an advantage
to either side involved in the conflict, lest they lose the perceived neutral-
ity and moral authority that were their main source of political capital.
In 1980, seeking to capitalize on the upheavals in Iran attendant on its
revolution, which had brought to power the regime of Ayatollah Kho-
meini, Iraq – unprovoked – attacked Iran.2 Geopolitical considerations
conspired against an even-handed Security Council response. The United
States was still smarting over the loss of its regional ally, the Shah of Iran,
and over the US hostage crisis in Iran, which had provoked an embar-
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 19
rassingly botched military rescue operation. The Soviet Union had faced
sharp criticism from Iran over its 1979 invasion of Afghanistan. Further,
Iraq had long been a major trade and military client of the Soviet Union
and of France. The United Kingdom was perhaps the most neutral of the
five permanent members of the Security Council (the ‘‘P-5’’) vis-à-vis
Saddam Hussein’s totalitarian Iraq and Ayatollah Khomeini’s chaotic
Iran, while China would tap into a gold-mine of arms sales to both sides
in the murderous war, which was to drag on until 1988. Thus, the balance
of interests in the Council heavily favoured Iraq. In Resolution 479, the
Council ignominiously failed to condemn Iraq’s attack, alienating Iran
for many years, rather calling blandly for a peaceful resolution of the dis-
pute.3 Saddam Hussein can only have concluded from this episode that
the Council was prepared to go to great lengths to accommodate his re-
gional ambitions, with fateful consequences for Iraq 10 years down the
line.
Indeed, in an unvarnished oral history recorded in 2001, Joseph C.
Wilson, US Chargé d’Affaires in Baghdad in 1990, argued that Saddam
Hussein miscalculated his attack on Kuwait in two ways: he believed that
the United States would not waste the lives of US youths in the sands of
Arabia to defend Kuwait; and he hoped the United Nations could be
used to absorb and deflect international outrage:
He had basically made the bet that if he could get the Iraq-Kuwait issue thrown
into the United Nations system, then he could have 20 years in Kuwait. . . . He en-
visioned some toothless resolutions. He had already been the recipient of two res-
olutions on his use of chemical weapons. Nobody remembered them because they
had no biting sanctions to them.4
The United Nations’ response over the next decade provides a catalogue
of the measures available to it as a peace broker in the Cold War years.5
It began with Secretary-General Kurt Waldheim’s quick offer to use his
good offices to mediate the conflict, and his use of his powers under Art-
icle 99 of the UN Charter to bring a threat to the maintenance of interna-
tional peace and security to the attention of the Security Council. When
these early measures – including the unconvincing Security Council call
for peaceful resolution – failed, Waldheim appointed a Special Represen-
tative, who was able to negotiate only very limited concessions by the
warring parties.
In 1984, Secretary-General Javier Pérez de Cuéllar managed briefly to
secure both parties’ agreement to refrain from the deliberate military at-
tacks on purely civilian centres of population that had been devastating
both populations and were to leave long-lasting scars on both societies,
perhaps most poignantly recorded in Iran’s cinema production of the
1980s and 1990s. The United Nations moved to deploy two small inspec-
tion teams in the region, to investigate attacks on civilian areas and mon-
itor this truce in the ‘‘war of the cities’’. As attacks on merchant shipping
in the Gulf increased, Western powers (and to a degree the Soviet Union)
moved to protect commercial sea-lanes, threatening escalation of the
conflict.6
Gorbachev’s rise to power in the USSR triggered an increased willing-
ness of the P-5 to cooperate on matters of international peace and secu-
rity, especially where their own interests clearly overlapped, as they did
on the issue of maintaining the supply of oil from the Persian Gulf. This
provided an opening for a diplomatic offensive by Pérez de Cuéllar in the
first half of 1987, leading to the adoption of Resolution 598, whose cor-
nerstone was the demand for a ceasefire to be monitored by a group dis-
patched by the Secretary-General.7 Several days before the ceasefire
eventually commenced on 20 August 1988 (after much further military
jockeying between the parties), the United Nations Iran–Iraq Military
Observer Group (UNIIMOG) deployed in the region to verify, confirm
and supervise the cessation of hostilities and the withdrawal of all forces
to the internationally recognized boundaries without delay.
UNIIMOG was a classic Cold War peacekeeping operation. With joint
headquarters in Tehran and Baghdad, it had 400 personnel (including 350
military observers), drawn from contributing states on every continent.8
Its Terms of Reference9 mandated it to establish and monitor ceasefire
lines, investigate ceasefire violations and restore calm, supervise troop
withdrawals, build confidence and reduce tensions. The role UNIIMOG
was designed to play in maintaining order in the Gulf was, like the
broader role of the United Nations in maintaining world order at that
time, to use the political capital of neutrality to provide a buffer between
warring parties.
UNIIMOG’s work proceeded relatively smoothly, even following the
Iraqi invasion and occupation of Kuwait in August 1990, immediately af-
ter which Saddam Hussein essentially acceded to all of Iran’s terms for a
de facto disengagement.10 By the end of September 1990, the withdrawal
of forces to the internationally recognized boundaries was almost com-
plete. UNIIMOG completed its mandate on 28 February 1991. Civilian
offices were established in Tehran and Baghdad to allow the Secretary-
General to fulfil the remaining political tasks under Resolution 598
(1987), but were phased out by the end of 1992.
Iraq–Kuwait: Towards peace enforcement
Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in August 1990 triggered events that trans-

formed the United Nations’ role in maintaining the peace (or world
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 21
order) and both the nature and scale of the peace operations it was sub-
sequently to deploy. Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait represented more than the
passage of an army across a long-disputed border in the remote sands of
Araby. It also signalled the transgression of two lines in the sand: the
prohibition on aggression, and the common global interest in stable oil
supply and prices from the Persian Gulf.
Whether it was to protect international law or the international oil
market, the United States moved immediately following the invasion to
build a coalition of states to reverse Saddam Hussein’s aggression. This
was initially attempted through the imposition of sanctions and a naval
blockade,11 and ultimately by an expeditionary force authorized in Reso-
lution 678 to use ‘‘all necessary means’’ to remove Iraqi occupiers from
Kuwait.12 The United Nations provided a framework that was both obvi-
ous and convenient for this international strategy, lending it legal author-
ity and political legitimacy. For the first time since the UN action in Ko-
rea in the early 1950s, the United Nations was used to reverse a clear case
of inter-state aggression (compounded by Saddam Hussein’s decision to
annex Kuwait outright a few days after the initial invasion), acting under
Chapter VII of the UN Charter to enforce peace.
The shape of the crisis of 1990–1991 is well known, and does not re-
quire detailed discussion here. It is, however, worth reflecting on the cen-
tral political role of the United Nations in the management of the crisis,
because it indicates the expectations and assumptions carried forward by
various actors into the crisis of 2003. Iraq invaded Kuwait on 2 August
1990; the Security Council acted the very same day, adopting Resolution
660, which condemned the invasion and demanded a complete with-
drawal. Four days later the Security Council adopted Resolution 661,
which imposed comprehensive sanctions on both Iraq and Kuwait and
established the 661 Committee to implement the resolution. This swift
action served as more than a show of strength: it signalled a fundamental
shift in the United Nations’ capacity to act, promising a new decisiveness
in the post–Cold War era.
The United Nations’ centrality in this new era was made clear by
Russian unwillingness to support military action except under UN aus-
pices, and by the use made by other diplomatic intervener powers, such
as France and the Organization of the Islamic Conference, of the General
Assembly and the Security Council to try to shape events.13 The drama
was played out through the United Nations.
At the same time, embedded within this script as it unfolded were
a number of clues to the future direction of UN peace operations. The
sanctions regime imposed by the Security Council included, almost from
its inception, a humanitarian exception, which highlighted tensions
between peace enforcement and humanitarian considerations that were
later to dog the United Nations’ involvement in Iraq. Resolution 686,

adopted on 2 March 1991, provided the formal framework for a perma-
nent ceasefire, pointing to the future complexity of UN roles. Among
other provisions, it required Iraq to accept liability under international
law for war damages14 and to disarm, demands that would lead to a vast
expansion in the Council’s normative, regulatory and administrative
functions for which it was ill prepared.
UNIKOM and muscular peacekeeping: The New World

Order?
The success of peace enforcement against Saddam Hussein emboldened

the Council to take a more assertive and intrusive stance even on tradi-
tional tasks such as border monitoring. This became apparent with the
establishment of the United Nations Iraq–Kuwait Observer Mission
(UNIKOM) by Resolution 689 of 9 April 1991. UNIKOM in many ways
resembled earlier, classic peacekeeping operations such as UNIIMOG.
But these traditional duties were grafted on to a Chapter VII mandate.15
In line with that mandate, the Security Council increased UNIKOM’s
strength to three mechanized infantry battalions in 1993, following a
series of Iraqi transgressions. This new approach to border monitoring
heralded a period of muscular peacekeeping, a break from the past. It
suggested, in the memorable phrase of President George H. W. Bush in
an address to Congress on 6 March 1991, a ‘‘New World Order’’ – robust
international police action enforcing clearly demarcated lines in the sand.
The watershed nature of UNIKOM was further underlined by the
fact that all five permanent members of the Security Council (the P-5),
for the first time ever, provided military staff to a UN peace operation.
This signalled an unprecedented level of cooperation between the P-5,
in keeping with the spirit of Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev’s fa-
mous Pravda and Izvestia article on 17 September 1987, which called for
‘‘wider use of . . . the institution of UN military observers and UN peace-
keeping forces in disengaging the troops of warring sides, observing
ceasefires and armistice agreements’’.16
The P-5 cooperation underpinning UNIKOM represented the high-
water mark of P-5 concord, whose residue continues to underwrite un-
precedented Security Council activism in Africa – but which over time
became notably absent in relation to Iraq. In the period between March
1991 and October 1993, the Council passed 185 resolutions (a rate about
five times greater than that of previous decades) and launched 15 new
peacekeeping and observer missions (as against 17 in the preceding
46 years).17 Vetoes also dropped by roughly 80 per cent. P-5 coopera-
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 23
tion largely continued throughout the 1990s, with Russian concerns

over Yugoslavia and Chinese concerns over Taiwan mostly quarantined
from other issues. There were, of course, exceptions, notably on Israel–
Palestine, Bosnia, Kosovo and – of course – Iraq. In some ways, however,
these exceptions serve to prove the importance of the new pattern of P-5
concord, which paved the way for UN peace operations around the globe.
UNIKOM operated smoothly for almost a dozen years. In March 2003,
the coalition attack on Iraq made the force redundant by suppressing
Saddam Hussein’s continuing threat to Kuwait’s security (although Iraqi
irredentism in the future is at the very least plausible). On 17 March, Sec-
retary-General Kofi Annan suspended UNIKOM’s operations and with-
drew the Mission, formally terminating it on 6 October 2003.
Insurgencies and humanitarian crisis: The new Iraqi disorder
Events in Iraq in the early 1990s soon put the lie to perceptions that the
tasks ahead would prove easy to achieve. Internal insurgencies, humani-
tarian crises, black marketeering and human rights violations have all
played out in Iraq since President George H. W. Bush announced the
New Order’s arrival. They have all influenced the United Nations’ role
in seeking to maintain international peace, both in Iraq and throughout
the world. In the fourth phase of UN involvement in Iraq, the Kurdish
and Shiite insurgencies in 1991 and the resulting humanitarian crises
brought about a new multidisciplinarity in UN and other international
responses.
On 15 February 1991, as the war in Iraq raged, President Bush called
on the people of Iraq to ‘‘take matters into their own hands and force
Saddam Hussein, the dictator, to step aside’’. On 26 February, Bush reit-
erated his intention to drive Saddam Hussein from power. But on 28 Feb-
ruary, coalition military action was called to a temporary halt, and on 2
March the Security Council passed Resolution 686, which established
the framework for peace, including the establishment of a formal cease-
fire, with Saddam Hussein very much still in place.18 On the same day,
Shiite militias rose in rebellion in southern Iraq, hoping to capitalize on
Saddam Hussein’s momentary weakness and expecting American sup-
port. Within days, the rebellion had spread to all major Shia centres –
Nasiriyeh, Basra, Najaf and Karbala – and Kurdish rebels mounted their
own offensive in northern Iraq. In a betrayal still keenly resented by the
Shiites, the coalition stood by as Iraq’s Republican Guard swiftly quelled
the rebellions, exacting terrible retribution particularly against the
Shiites.
As the military tide also turned against the Kurds, Kurdish leaders
called on the West to prevent Saddam Hussein from committing geno-

cide against their people. On 5 April, in the face of mounting pressure,
the Security Council passed Resolution 688, which condemned the Iraqi
repression, particularly of Kurds, and deemed the resulting refugee flows
a threat to international peace and security.19 But Resolution 688 did not
condemn the repression itself as a threat to international peace and secu-
rity, nor did it take steps under Chapter VII to put a stop to it. Although
Resolution 688’s linking of refugee flows and threats to peace and secu-
rity provided a normative template for later Council decisions in Yugo-
slavia, Somalia, Haiti and Kosovo, it also signalled that the Council was
not yet ready to abandon its long-held attachment to sovereignty and
non-interference in internal affairs.
What resulted prefigured subsequent impulses in Kosovo and some
other theatres of conflict in response to intensive if highly selective global
media coverage of humanitarian crises (the so-called ‘‘CNN effect’’20):
unsatisfied with the UN response, and confronted by domestic public
opinion, Western powers acted unilaterally, fudging the legality of their
actions with creative interpretations of Security Council resolutions and
appeals to public conscience. Here, this new unilateralism took the form
of a humanitarian intervention to protect Kurdish refugees in the moun-
tainous border region with Turkey. US President Bush and UK Prime
Minister John Major argued, in a pattern that foreshadowed the argu-
ments of their political heirs a decade later, that earlier UN resolutions
already provided them with all the authorization they needed to send
troops into northern Iraq. Ultimately, this Operation ‘‘Provide Comfort’’
involved 16,000 US, UK, Dutch, French, German, Spanish, Canadian and
Turkish troops, protecting Kurds in an area of 5,500 square kilometres.
UN officials, under pressure from a variety of interested parties,
worked towards creating a more permanent, less controversial solution.
What emerged was a highly innovative stopgap, the UN Guards Con-
tingent in Iraq (UNGCI):21 up to 500 UN Guards, drawn from the
United Nations Security and Safety Section (UNSSS – the previously
near-invisible operational security arm of the UN Secretariat), supple-
mented by individuals seconded from national civilian police or mili-
taries, were permitted into the northern governorates to protect humani-
tarian supply lines. The UNGCI was a creative face-saving initiative of
the type Ralph Bunche, the United Nations’ first and possibly most cre-
ative peace negotiator, would have admired, which succeeded in estab-
lishing a UN bridge between an initiative of some P-5 members and the
opposition thereto of others.22 Its deployment permitted the return of
hundreds of thousands of Kurdish refugees and the safe delivery of a
large international assistance programme carried out by the UN High
Commissioner for Refugees, other United Nations agencies and non-
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 25
governmental organizations. These programmes supported roughly 1.25

million people in northern Iraq, including 650,000 displaced persons.
They served in a limited but effective way to deter offensives against the
Kurds by Saddam Hussein’s troops.
The situation on the ground remained tense, however. Iraqi forces
moved decisively against southern marsh Shiites. In response, in August
1992 the Western powers imposed a no-fly zone in the south to match
one they had declared in northern Iraq in April 1991 to protect Kurdish
refugees, drawing a line in the sand to defend the ceasefire.23 The unilat-
erally established no-fly zones – which the Western powers argued were,
like Operation Provide Comfort, authorized by the earlier ceasefire
resolutions – became the source of much tension in later years, not only
between those powers and Iraq, but also between Security Council mem-
bers over the correct interpretation of those earlier resolutions. This ten-
sion was heightened after France’s position on enforcement within Iraq
shifted in 1996 when it pulled out of enforcing the northern no-fly zones
after the Western aid presence on the ground ended there. It grew far
worse when France pulled out of enforcing the southern zone at the end
of 1998, after the United States and the United Kingdom first proposed
expanding the zone in September, then bombed Baghdad in Operation
Desert Fox in December in response to Saddam’s blocking of weapons
inspections.
These developments in the aggregate yielded a complex security envi-
ronment within Iraq that fuelled tension between UN Security Council
members over acceptable enforcement of Security Council resolutions.
The UN Secretariat, specifically the Secretary-General, was often caught
in the middle – a hint of things to come. Similarly, the Kurdish and Shiite
uprisings foreshadowed much greater UN involvement in essentially
internal conflicts24 and in complex humanitarian situations. But much of
this was yet to become clear. While events in Iraq played out, Yugoslavia
was just beginning to disintegrate; the international response to Somalia’s
crisis was a year off; and Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali
had not yet issued An Agenda for Peace,25 which called for the United
Nations to take a stronger lead in preventive diplomacy, peacemaking,
peacekeeping and peacebuilding.
Inspections plus sanctions: The United Nations as global

regulator and proxy administrator
Operation Provide Comfort, the UNGCI and the no-fly zones signalled
a more complex operational environment for the United Nations. Iraq
never fully complied with the terms of Resolution 687, so there was never
a formal peace with Saddam Hussein for the United Nations to keep. But
the United Nations had become a lifeline for large tracts of Kurdish-
controlled northern Iraq. Just as innovative solutions were crafted to
meet the Kurdish population’s needs in the immediate post-war environ-
ment, so creative approaches were designed to ensure containment of
Iraqi belligerence.
These innovations ushered in the fifth phase for the United Nations in
Iraq, involving a multidisciplinary effort to regulate Iraq’s military capac-
ity while also addressing some of its humanitarian needs.26 Inspection of
Iraqi weapons capabilities through the United Nations Special Commis-
sion (UNSCOM) signalled a movement by the Security Council towards
the role of global regulator, and the ‘‘Oil-for-Food’’ and other humani-
tarian programmes vastly expanded the United Nations’ administrative
footprint.
Resolution 687, known informally as the ‘‘mother of all resolutions’’,
required not only Iraq’s withdrawal from Kuwait and reparations for the
damages inflicted, but also disarmament. In seeking to implement the
terms of this complex, ambitious resolution, the UN Secretariat and
some UN agencies ventured into new territory. The complex regulatory
machinery the United Nations established relied on two methods then
thought to be complementary: first, disarming Iraq through weapons in-
spections and destruction; and, second, restricting Iraq’s capacity to de-
velop new military capabilities by imposing comprehensive sanctions in
a determined (if imperfect) effort to control Iraqi belligerence. But these
sanctions proved perverse: they inflicted terrible suffering on civilians
in Iraq while allowing the targeted government to develop and control
a lucrative black market. In response, ambitious humanitarian objectives
were added by the Council to a mix of policy and regulatory initiatives
that were already difficult to manage constructively with the available
resources.
Developments affecting these programmes also generated changing
perceptions of the role the United Nations could properly play in main-
taining the peace. UNSCOM was established to implement the disarma-
ment demands of Resolution 687. In retrospect, its meticulous auditing
did a great deal to limit Saddam Hussein’s military capacity.27 But the
climate of controversy and brinkmanship fostered by Saddam Hussein
around the weapons inspectors served to undermine, in many quarters,
faith in the efficacy of that regulatory approach. UNSCOM’s successes
usually came from the help of informers and defectors, and the Iraqis
appeared to retreat only when caught cheating, stimulating the view in
Washington that Hussein was hiding both weapons aspirations and mate-
riel.28 Over time, Washington’s fears led to a ratcheting up of pressure
on Hussein, eventually leading to open confrontation in late 1998 be-
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 27
tween Hussein and Richard Butler, the Australian UNSCOM head, over
access to sensitive sites. At that point, France joined Russia and China in
arguing that the containment approach of inspections-plus-sanctions had
run its course, leaving Washington and London to act unilaterally when
in Operation Desert Fox they bombed Baghdad for failing to allow UN-
SCOM access to the disputed sites.29 These changing attitudes to the suc-
cess of inspections, and the nature of UNSCOM’s relationship to West-
ern intelligence agencies,30 greatly influenced assessments of the United
Nations’ ability to carry through such a meticulous regulatory approach
to security management, and particularly of what it had to offer to the
United States.
Assessments of the success of this approach were also coloured by
different conceptions of the approach’s purpose. Whereas most countries
saw the inspections-plus-sanctions regime as aimed at Iraqi disarmament,
signs emerged that the United States and the United Kingdom aimed in-
stead at removing Hussein from power. As early as 26 March 1997, US
Secretary of State Albright stated:
We do not agree with the nations who argue that if Iraq complies with its obliga-
tions concerning weapons of mass destruction, sanctions should be lifted . . . Iraq
must prove its peaceful intentions . . . the evidence is overwhelming that Saddam
Hussein’s intentions will never be peaceful.31
Eventually these differences amongst the P-5 brought UNSCOM to a

grinding halt. Three panels formed in early 1999 to conduct a ‘‘compre-
hensive review’’ of the inspections-plus-sanctions approach could not ar-
rive at a formula for improving the effectiveness of inspections while
weakening the severity of sanctions.32 Inspections were suspended, and
sanctions stayed in place.
Remarkably, the diversionary tactics of Saddam Hussein over weapons
issues succeeded in blinding many experts, including intelligence analysts,
to the success of the inspections-plus-sanctions approach in containing
Iraq’s military potential. But, owing to political posturing and intelligence
mistakes, what the weapons inspectors could not find attracted more at-
tention than the fact that they found nothing much, contributing to a
slowly accumulating sense of crisis amongst Western decision makers,
much aggravated after the events of 11 September 2001.
Meanwhile, global civil society and many political actors, particularly
in the West and in the developing world, focused increasing attention on
the plight of Iraqi civilians under the UN sanctions regime. These were
even harder to justify once inspections had reached stalemate. The Oil-
for-Food (OFF) programme, established by Resolution 986 in April
1995,33 commenced operations in December 1996 after a Memorandum
of Understanding was agreed by the United Nations and the Government

of Iraq in May 1996.34 It was, as Secretary-General Annan noted, ‘‘one of
the largest, most complex and most unusual tasks [the Security Council]
has ever entrusted to the Secretariat – the only humanitarian programme
ever to have been funded entirely from resources belonging to the nation
it was designed to help’’.35 Over its lifetime, the OFF handled US$46 bil-
lion worth of Iraqi oil revenues, and served as the sole source of suste-
nance for 60 per cent of Iraq’s estimated 27 million people. But Saddam
Hussein turned both the sanctions and this programme to his advantage,
through the control of lucrative sanctions evasion schemes, while heavy
costs were borne by the most vulnerable segments of Iraqi society.36
As the Security Council slowly permitted Iraqi exports to grow (if only
to fund OFF), import-approval procedures consequently underwent two
fundamental changes. First, in 1999, the Council introduced ‘‘fast track’’
procedures, which allowed the Secretary-General to approve contracts
for the importation of specific goods on a ‘‘green list’’ without reference
to the 661 Committee.37 The green list was slowly expanded to include
petroleum production spare parts and equipment, water and sanitation
supplies, electricity supplies and health sector supplies, and finally hous-
ing sector supplies. Second, in 2002, the Security Council established the
‘‘Goods Review List’’, which reversed the presumption against importa-
tion: following the change to the Goods Review List, import contracts
were presumptively approved by the Secretary-General unless they con-
tained a listed item.38 Member states were thus allowed to export to Iraq
all items not on the list.
Both the OFF programme and the weapons inspections programmes
reflect a movement towards the creation of regulatory regimes adminis-
tered or supervised by agencies of the Security Council, with a complex
relationship to the UN Secretariat. That regulatory approach has been
used with increasing frequency by the Security Council; committees of
the Security Council have recently proliferated, charged with overseeing
the implementation of specific administrative standards or regimes.39
This has important ramifications for the balance of the United Nations’
activities – not least through resource-allocation – that are still not fully
digested by the UN membership.
But the United Nations’ ability to operate such a complex regulatory
scheme should be carefully questioned. By 2004, OFF was being investi-
gated for mismanagement and possible corruption by a dozen inquiries,40
including investigations by the US Senate Permanent Subcommittee on
Investigations, other congressional committees, a New York Justice
Department attorney, and, most promisingly, an Independent Inquiry
Committee, established by the Secretary-General and led for the United
Nations itself by former US Federal Reserve chief Paul Volcker.41 It
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 29
now seems likely that billions of dollars were siphoned off from oil export
and other import contracts into Iraqi state and private accounts, a slow-
moving process of which the Security Council was at least passively
aware. Seriously adverse findings by some or all of these inquiries could
reverse the growth in the United Nations’ regulatory and administrative
ambitions in the security field.
Conclusion
The inspections-plus-sanctions experience of the United Nations in Iraq

suggests an effort to attain not just a thin cessation of hostilities, but
rather the more ambitious goal of a durable peace through a multidisci-
plinary approach. Today’s peace operations have complex mandates ex-
tending far beyond the classic model represented by UNIIMOG, for ex-
ample.42 The mandates often aim to provide humanitarian assistance,
civil administration, police monitoring and training, human rights moni-
toring, economic reconstruction and other essentially civilian functions.
The role of the United Nations in Iraq throughout much of the 1990s an-
ticipated and shaped this trend.
The diversification of tasks performed by contemporary peace oper-
ations creates significant challenges of coordination, increasingly ad-
dressed by a civilian leadership. Although the military components of
these missions often remain the largest, the mission objectives are
not necessarily ones to which the military can or may wish to contribute
greatly. Sometimes, as in the Balkans and Afghanistan, the military
components retain their own lines of command and control outside the
UN structure. The United Nations’ Iraq programmes in the 1990s were
similar – essentially civilian activities overseen by civilian coordinators
(Benon Sevan for OFF, Rolf Ekeus and Richard Butler for UNSCOM,
Hans Blix for UNMOVIC, and Mohamed ElBaradei for the Interna-
tional Atomic Energy Agency), with military components operating out-
side UN command structures enforcing the sanctions regime and no-fly
zones.
The Security Council has continued to look to sanctions regimes as
an alternative – or an addition – to the use of force, even as blanket eco-
nomic sanctions have fallen out of vogue given their humanitarian costs
first in Haiti, then in Iraq, and as the ability of the targeted governments
to manipulate sanctions for their own ends has slowly sunk in.43 After
Iraq, sanctions regimes have often become targeted to specific individuals
and their assets.44
Western unilateralism in both Operation Provide Comfort and the es-
tablishment and enforcement of the no-fly zones (in which France ini-
tially participated, somewhat ironically in light of its subsequent opposi-

tion to American unilateralism) also pointed to a future trend. Through
operations such as Desert Fox in 1998,45 Western powers have increas-
ingly resorted to enforcement action without explicit Security Council
authorization.
These developments set the stage for the fateful confrontations over
Iraq that took place at the United Nations in 2002–2003 and continue, in
a more muted way, today. We turn to them and to their implications in
Chapter 22.
Notes
James Cockayne is a graduate scholar at the Institute for International Law and Justice at
New York University Law School; David M. Malone is Assistant Deputy Minister (Africa
and Middle East), Department of Foreign Affairs, Canada. The chapter does not necessarily
represent the views of either organization.
1. The term was given currency by Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld. For further dis-
cussion of the historical evolution of peacekeeping, see James Cockayne and David Ma-
lone, ‘‘The Ralph Bunche Centennial: Peace Operations Then and Now’’, Global Gov-
ernance, Vol. 11, No. 3 (2005), pp. 331–350.
2. See Dilip Hiro, The Longest War: The Iran–Iraq Military Conflict (London: Paladin,
1990); Charles Tripp, A History of Iraq (2nd edn, Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2002), Ch. 6.
3. S/RES/479 (1980).
4. David Ignatius, ‘‘Saddam Hussein Revisited’’, Washington Post, 14 September 2004.
5. See, generally, Brian Urquhart, A Life in Peace and War (New York: HarperCollins,
1987).
6. These patrols at times threatened to drag Western nations into the conflict. On 3 July
1988, the USS Vincennes, a United States cruiser, mistakenly shot down an Iranian com-
mercial airliner, killing all 290 passengers and crew on board. In other incidents, Iranian
attacks on US naval vessels led to US retaliatory strikes on Iranian oil platforms, which
have only recently been resolved through litigation before the International Court of
Justice: see Oil Platforms (Islamic Republic of Iran v. United States of America), ICJ,
Judgment (6 November 2003).
7. S/RES/598 (1987). The P-5 diplomacy involved in negotiating this text, much of it con-
ducted in private in New York, was to set the pattern of P-5 initiatives, often domina-
tion, within the Council ever since. See Cameron Hume, The United Nations, Iran and
Iraq: How Peacemaking Changed (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1994),
pp. 71–72, 90–102; and see David Malone, ‘‘The UN Security Council in the 1990s: In-
consistent, Improvisational, Indispensable,’’ in Ramesh Thakur and Edward Newman,
New Millennium, New Perspectives (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2000),
pp. 21–45.
8. Argentina, Australia, Austria, Bangladesh, Canada, Denmark, Finland, Ghana, Hun-
gary, India, Indonesia, Ireland, Italy, Kenya, Malaysia, New Zealand, Nigeria, Norway,
Peru, Poland, Senegal, Sweden, Turkey, Uruguay, Yugoslavia and Zambia. New Zea-
land operated an air unit, and the Observer Group also included military police pro-
vided by Ireland and medical orderlies from Austria.
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 31
9. UN Doc. S/20093.
10. See the exchange of letters between Saddam Hussein and Iranian President Rafsanjani
on 30 July and 8 August 1990, respectively, in UN Doc. S/21556, 17 August 1990, p. 4.
11. See Resolution 661 (6 August 1990); Resolution 665 (25 August 1990); Resolution 666
(13 September 1990); Resolution 670 (25 September 1990).
12. Resolution 678 (29 November 1990).
13. On 24 September 1990, French President François Mitterrand, speaking at the UN
General Assembly, proposed a four-phase peace plan, including dealing with the
Arab–Israeli problem. On 3 October, the foreign ministers of the Organization of the
Islamic Conference, meeting on the margins at the United Nations, demanded Iraqi ad-
herence to UN resolutions and expressed support for those Gulf states seeking foreign
military assistance. The stance of the OIC was crucial: it signalled regional legitimacy
for UN peace enforcement. On 15 January 1991, France unexpectedly took centre-
stage, suggesting that the Security Council agree to an international conference on Pal-
estine if Iraq withdrew from Kuwait. The United States and the United Kingdom
strongly opposed the suggestion. The French withdrew the proposal, then blocked a
British resolution making a last-minute appeal to Iraq to withdraw unconditionally
from Iraq.
14. This led in Resolution 692 (1991) to the establishment of the UN Compensation Com-
mission in Geneva, which has dealt with 2.6 million claims for death, injury, loss of or
damage to property, commercial claims and claims for environmental damage. It has
paid out more than US$18 billion in compensation, funded by Iraqi oil sales under the
Oil-for-Food programme. See especially Andrea Gattini, ‘‘Old Rules, New Procedures
on War Reparations’’, David Caron and Brian Morris, ‘‘The United Nations Compensa-
tion Commission: Practical Justice, Not Retribution’’ and Merritt B. Fox, ‘‘Imposing Li-
ability for Losses from Aggressive War: An Economic Analysis of the UNCC’’, all in
European Journal of International Law, Vol. 13, No. 1 (2002), pp. 161–182, 183–200,
201–222.
15. S/RES/687 (3 April 1991) and S/RES/689 (9 April 1991).
16. Mikhail S. Gorbachev, ‘‘Reality and the Guarantees of a Secure World’’, in Foreign
Broadcast Information Service, Daily Report: Soviet Union, 17 September 1987, pp. 23–
28.
17. See David Malone, ‘‘The UN Security Council in the Post-Cold War World: 1987–97’’,
Security Dialogue, Vol. 28, No. 4 (December 1997), p. 394.
18. S/RES/686 (2 March 1991).
19. S/RES/688 (5 April 1991). Both Turkey and Iran had written letters to the Council char-
acterizing Kurdish refugee flows as a threat to their security, and the Council apparently
saw resemblances between that claim and the Indian characterization of Bengali refugee
flows in 1971 as an act of indirect aggression.
20. The term refers to the effect that global media have on the determination of foreign
policy. See Steven Livingston, Clarifying the CNN Effect: An Examination of Media
Effects According to Type of Military Intervention, Joan Shorenstein Center, John
F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University, Research Paper R-18, June
1997.
21. A similar arrangement was considered for Burundi in 1996, when the government lost
control of parts of its territory, which required humanitarian assistance. The option was
not ultimately pursued.
22. Although the Russian Federation and China objected to enforcement of the no-fly
zones and Operation Provide Comfort, they did so in a low-key way, suggesting initially
at least pragmatic acquiescence.
23. In the north, the United States, the United Kingdom and France proclaimed a no-fly
zone on 10 April 1991, relying specifically on Resolutions 678, 687 and 688. In the south,
they relied on Resolutions 687, 688 and, later, 949 (1994).
24. In describing certain conflicts as internal or civil, we generally add the prior
qualifier ‘‘essentially’’ because these conflicts rarely remain strictly internal for long –
neighbouring countries often spilled in (as in the Democratic Republic of Congo) or
the conflict spilled over (as with Colombia’s turmoil spilling over into border areas of
Ecuador and Peru and into the domestic politics of Venezuela).
25. An Agenda for Peace, Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peace-keeping, UN Doc.
A/47/277–S/24111 (17 June 1992).
26. Multidisciplinary Peace-keeping: Lessons from Recent Experience (New York: United
Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations, April 1999).
27. As Fareed Zakaria has noted, US weapons-tracker David Kay’s assertion after the 2003
Iraq war that ‘‘we were all wrong’’ in expecting to find weapons of mass destruction in
Iraq overlooks the accuracy of the UN inspectors’ reporting; see Fareed Zakaria, ‘‘We
Had Good Intel – The U.N.’s’’, Newsweek, 9 February 2004.
28. See Lawrence Freedman, ‘‘War in Iraq: Selling the Threat’’, Survival, Vol. 46, No. 2
(Summer 2004), pp. 7–50.
29. See Richard Butler, Saddam Defiant: The Threat of Mass Destruction and the Crisis of
Global Security (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2000); and see David Malone,
‘‘Goodbye UNSCOM: A Sorry Tale in US-UN Relations’’, Security Dialogue, Vol. 30,
No. 4 (December 1999), pp. 393–411.
30. Susan Wright, ‘‘The Hijacking of UNSCOM’’, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, Vol. 55,
No. 4 (July/August 1999).
31. Madeline Albright, Remarks at Georgetown University, Washington, D.C., 26 March
1997, available at hhttp://secretary.state.gov/www/statements/970326.htmli.
32. See UN Doc. S/1999/356 (27 March 1999).
33. Resolution 986 (14 April 1995).
34. See Memorandum of Understanding between the Secretariat of the United Nations and
the Government of Iraq on the Implementation of Security Council Resolution 986
(1995), in Letter Dated 20 May 1996 from the Secretary-General Addressed to the Presi-
dent of the Security Council, UN Doc. S/1996/356* (20 May 1996).
35. UN News Centre, ‘‘On Eve of Its Expiry, Annan Hails ‘Unprecedented’ Iraq Oil-for-
Food Programme’’, 20 November 2003.
36. See David Cortright and George A. Lopez, ‘‘Reforming Sanctions’’, in David M. Ma-
lone, ed., The UN Security Council from the Cold War to the 21st Century (Boulder,
CO: Lynne Rienner, 2004), pp. 167–179; Peter van Walsum, ‘‘The Iraq Sanctions Com-
mittee’’, in ibid., pp. 181–193; David J. R. Angell, ‘‘The Angola Sanctions Committee’’,
in ibid., pp. 195–204; David Cortright and George A. Lopez, Sanctions and the Search
for Security: Challenges to UN Action (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2002); see, gener-
ally, hhttp://www.globalpolicy.org/security/sanction/theindex.htmi.
37. See S/RES/1284 (17 December 1999).
38. S/RES/1409 (14 May 2002).
39. See, for example, the committees established by Resolutions 1540 (2004) – weapons of
mass destruction; 1533 (2004) – Democratic Republic of Congo; 1521 (2003) – Liberia;
1518 (2003) – Iraq; 1373 (2001) – Counter-Terrorism Committee; 1343 (2001) – Liberia;
1298 (2000) – Ethiopia and Eritrea; 1267 (1999) – Al Qaeda and the Taliban; 1160
(1998) – Kosovo; 1132 (1997) – Sierra Leone; 985 (1995) – Liberia; 918 (1994) –
Rwanda; 864 (1993) – UNITA (National Union for the Total Independence of Angola);
751 (1992) – Somalia; 748 (1992) – Libya. The International Criminal Tribunal for the
Former Yugoslavia and the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda can also be
considered as subsidiary organs of the Security Council designed to enforce detailed ad-
THE UN IN IRAQ, 1980–2001 33
ministrative standards – namely those regulating the conduct of hostilities. In addition,

Council-mandated expert bodies, for example on economic factors in a variety of con-
flicts, have been proliferating.
40. See David M. Malone, ‘‘Goodbye UNSCOM: A Sad Tale in US-UN Relations’’, Global
Governance, Vol. 30, No. 4 (December 1999), pp. 393–411, and ‘‘Iraq: No Easy
Response to ‘the Greatest Threat’ ’’, American Journal of International Law, Vol. 95
(2001), pp. 236–245.
41. See hhttp://www.iic-offp.org/index.htmli; see also William Safire, ‘‘Kofigate Gets Go-
ing’’, New York Times, 12 July 2004; ‘‘The Great Cash Cow’’, New York Times, 23
June 2004; ‘‘Tear Down this U.N. Stonewall’’, New York Times, 14 June 2004; ‘‘Scandal
with No Friends’’, New York Times, 19 April 2004; ‘‘Follow-up to Kofigate’’, New York
Times, 19 March 2004; ‘‘Scandal at the U.N.’’, New York Times, 17 March 2004.
42. See Thomas G. Weiss, David P. Forsythe and Roger A. Coate, The United Nations in a
Changing World (2nd edn, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1997).
43. See, generally, David Cortright and George A. Lopez, Sanctions and the Search for
Security; Making Targeted Sanctions Effective: Guidelines for the Implementation of UN
Policy Options, Report of the Stockholm Process, 14 February 2003, available at hhttp://
www.smartsanctions.sei.
44. See, for example, the resolutions on UNITA (1127 (1997) and 1173 (1998)), Usama bin
Laden and Al-Qaida (1267 (1999), 1333 (2000) and 1390 (2002)) and Charles Taylor
(1532 (2004)).
45. This was the name given by the United States and the United Kingdom to the air bom-
bardment carried out in the wake of Iraqi expulsions of Western UNSCOM officials in
late 1998.
Part II
Structural and normative challenges
3
The unipolar concert:
Unipolarity and multilateralism
in the age of globalization
Mohammed Ayoob and Matthew Zierler
An article in the New York Times on the eve of the 2004 US presidential
election began by asserting that the predominant view in Europe seemed
to be that, ‘‘[n]o matter who wins the presidential election next week, the
consequences for American-European relations will be bad’’. The author
traced this conclusion to the strong feeling among Europeans that neither
France nor Germany, the two linchpins of the Continent’s transatlantic
relationship, would be willing to come to the aid of the United States in
Iraq regardless of who won the US election.1 Analyses such as this one
tend to portray the United States’ relations with major European powers
in one-dimensional terms. They argue that everything hinges on Iraq
and ignore the dense web of interlocking security and economic interests
that bind the industrialized countries of Western Europe and the United
States together. As Joseph Nye has put it very aptly, ‘‘[i]n their relations
with each other all advanced democracies are from Venus.’’2
The clear recognition of this commonality of interests was demon-
strated by the atmosphere surrounding, and the rhetoric during, US Sec-
retary of State Condoleezza Rice’s trip to Europe in February 2005.
Rice’s trip was aimed above all at mending fences with the two leading
European allies – France and Germany – that had differed from the US
on the invasion of Iraq. The United States’ relations with France had par-
ticularly soured on this issue. However, Rice made clear in her major for-
eign policy speech on 8 February in Paris that ‘‘history will surely judge
us not by our old disagreements but by our new achievements’’.3
In this chapter we suggest that, although substantial changes to the
37
38 MOHAMMED AYOOB AND MATTHEW ZIERLER
international system have occurred since the end of the Cold War, the re-
lationship among the industrialized, affluent and powerful countries of
the global North basically has not been altered. This is because these
relationships were only partly driven by the common Soviet threat. They
were driven in equal, if not greater, measure by the need to protect and
enhance the interests that Western industrialized states had in common
vis-à-vis the majority of states in the economic, political and security
spheres. It was recognized even during the Cold War era that potentially
serious threats to the economic and security interests of the powerful and
affluent countries of the global North could arise from other parts of the
world, especially from the more recalcitrant and radical states from the
global South, whose interests were likely to diverge fundamentally from
states that composed the overlapping membership of the Organisation for
Economic Co-operation and Development, the North Atlantic Treaty
Organization (NATO) and the Group of Seven (G-7).
This conclusion was based on the assumption that there was a ‘‘struc-
tural conflict’’ built into the relationship between the North and the
South and that this was likely to drive Southern states to ‘‘gang up’’
on the North and use their numbers in international organizations to
push through agendas deleterious to the interests of the industrialized
powers. Stephen Krasner made this argument most cogently and force-
fully in 1985. He advised Western/Northern states to ‘‘disengage’’ as
far as feasible from the countries of the global South. He considered this
essential to prevent the North’s undue dependence, especially in the eco-
nomic sphere, on a web of intertwining relationships with potential
adversaries.4
The Achilles’ heel of Krasner’s analysis was that it attributed greater
cohesion to the groupings of third world states, such as the Group of 77
(G-77) and the Non-Aligned Movement, than they possessed. He also
overestimated the will and capacity of third world states to challenge the
major industrialized countries on issues vital to the latter. He did so be-
cause he ignored the vulnerabilities of individual post-colonial states, in-
cluding the major oil producers such as Saudi Arabia, and their conse-
quent dependence in economic and security matters on the major powers
of the global North. Such dependence gravely hampered the translation
of their collective rhetoric into meaningful collective action.5 Despite
these shortcomings, Krasner’s diagnosis that the interests of the Northern
and the Southern states diverged, and continue to diverge, significantly in
the economic and political arenas was not far off the mark.
From the perspective of the rich and the powerful, events since the
ending of the Cold War have added to the saliency of challenges emerg-
ing from the global South, whether in the shape of political Islam, espe-
cially in its more extreme manifestations, ‘‘rogue’’ states engaged in clan-
THE UNIPOLAR CONCERT 39
destine proliferation activities, or forces in the global South that resist the
Northern conception of globalization, in the economic as well as the cul-
tural spheres, because they perceive it to be deleterious to the interests of
their societies. A recent report sponsored by the Council on Foreign Re-
lations and chaired by Henry Kissinger and Lawrence Summers suggests
that ‘‘[t]here is a consensus within the transatlantic community on the
numerous challenges facing common interests. These include terrorism,
authoritarianism, economic incompetence, environmental degradation,
and the kind of misrule that exacerbates poverty, encourages discrimina-
tion, tolerates illiteracy, allows epidemics, and proliferates weapons of
mass destruction.’’6 This is a polite way of saying that the major threats
to international order as conceived in the capitals of the global North
come from the South, particularly from those forces that the major
powers are not in a position to control.
We argue that there are remarkable continuities in crucial areas be-
tween the Cold War and post–Cold War epochs, especially the contradic-
tions inherent in the political and economic relations between the global
North and the global South that are a function of the position in which
they find themselves in terms of stages of state-making and phases of eco-
nomic development. It is no coincidence, therefore, that North–South
relations are increasingly taking centre-stage in contemporary inter-
national affairs. This is demonstrated by the division of opinions visible
in several important areas, including the US-led invasion of Iraq, the
Israel–Palestine conflict, and humanitarian intervention, as well as major
economic issues relating to tariff and non-tariff trade barriers, terms
determining foreign investment, and questions of equity in relation to
intellectual copyright and patents.
Neatly dividing the history of international relations into distinct phases
often obscures the enduring elements of international politics. The end of
the Cold War did mean the end to bipolarity and competition between
the United States and the Soviet Union in the strategic arena. However,
this by itself did not lead to a fundamental restructuring of international
politics that would require a completely brand-new set of tools to explain
and understand it. Analysts of the post–Cold War era who argued that
systemic change had occurred with the end of superpower competition
ignored the fact that today’s key concepts, such as globalization, multi-
lateralism and fundamentalism, have their roots in the Cold War period
and indeed in earlier epochs.7 We need to acknowledge the historical
roots of such phenomena in order to explicate the current structure of
international society. It is only by examining both the changes and the
continuities in the international system that we can assess what has fun-
damentally changed and what has not in the politics and economics of
international relations.
Structure and process in the international system
Understanding the structure and process of the international system pro-

vides the basic framework for the systematic study of international rela-
tions. According to Joseph Nye, ‘‘[t]he structure of a system refers to its
distribution of power, and the process refers to patterns and types of
interaction among its units’’.8 Logically, in order to explain the process
by which states interact – for example, whether they act multilaterally or
unilaterally, or whether states act in response to economic or military
pressures – it is necessary to know what the structure of the international
system is and how it conditions states to act in a certain manner.
However, Nye’s definition of structure is unduly restrictive if by the
distribution of power he means only the allocation of capabilities among
the major powers. Such a definition might suffice for neo-realists, and
Nye cannot be counted among them, but it ignores the fact that the dis-
tribution of capabilities between the strong and the weak within the in-
ternational system is as important as the distribution of power among
the strong themselves. This is because the gap in the capabilities between
the powerful and the weak determines in large measure the structural
power that powerful states or groups of them wield in particular issue
areas as well as in the international system as a whole. It is the variable
that explains the concentration of power as opposed to its mere distribu-
tion. It is essential to understand this phenomenon of concentration in
order to comprehend the nature and degree of structural dominance in
international society and its long-term consequences.
The current era has certainly changed from the Cold War in the sense
not only that the United States is the most powerful state in the inter-
national system but also that there is no credible challenger to its pre-
eminence after the demise of the Soviet Union. Therefore, describing
the current distribution of power as unipolar is, on the surface, not ter-
ribly problematic.9 However, every new arrangement in terms of power
distribution among the major powers does not lead states automatically
to discard the patterns of behaviour that existed before the power shift.
Furthermore, unlike earlier major changes in the distribution of power
in the international system, for example in the aftermath of the two world
wars in the twentieth century, the current redistribution of power did not
result from a systemic conflict. The relatively peaceful transition from bi-
polarity to unipolarity has, therefore, not resulted in major disruptions
in patterns of state behaviour, in already existing alliance relationships,
or in the rules and norms governing the system. Consequently, unlike in
the aftermath of the two world wars, when new power relations and the
rules governing them had to be established afresh, the transition to US
unipolarity did not mean that the relationships and processes that had
been developed during the 50 years before that suddenly disappeared.
The continuity of behaviour is evident not only in the case of the mu-
tual relationships among the states of the global North but also in the
case of North–South relations. Indeed, the ending of the Cold War has
made issues of North–South asymmetry more salient. Although the new
vocabulary of post–Cold War analysis developed in US and European
academia, emphasizing as it does terms such as globalization, unipolarity
and multilateralism and the apparent tensions among them, may succeed
in hiding these continuities both among the states of the North and be-
tween the North and the South for some time, analysts of international
affairs with a keen sense of history and sociology, not to mention eco-
nomics, are bound to realize that in many spheres the post–Cold War
era is the linear descendant of the Cold War period.
Unipolarity, globalization and the Concert of Powers
At a superficial level, there seems to be tremendous tension today

between the existence of a unipolar world that appears to privilege the
dominance of the United States and the dramatic development of global-
ization, which promises both economic integration throughout the system
and, in the form of touted changes in the norms of global society, the
democratization of international relations. The terms ‘‘unipolarity’’ and
‘‘globalization’’ are often juxtaposed as if they are antithetical to each
other or, at the least, in a state of great friction. However, a deeper analy-
sis that focuses on structural power, that is the distribution of economic,
military and technological capabilities throughout the system, would
make clear that the two actually complement each other very well. They
do so not merely in terms of unipolarity ruling the roost in military-
political affairs while globalization dominates the economic arena. They
complement each other because, in the final analysis, both underwrite
the same set of power relations in the international system. They are in-
struments for advancing the interests of the dominant Concert of Powers
– an overlapping group of actors that can be termed the Concert of the
North Atlantic plus Japan – in all major spheres of international activity.
This club of rich and powerful states, now known as the global North,
seemed to have come to the conclusion in the aftermath of World War II
and decolonization that it was in the interest of its members to act in con-
cert. The motivation for this was only in part the presumed threat from
the Soviet Union. These states were motivated in equal measure by the
need to protect their interests, indeed their dominance over the interna-
tional system, from the economic and political claims of the newly inde-
pendent states that had just emerged into statehood after decades, and
in some cases centuries, of colonial subjugation. The need to do so had
become particularly urgent because, with decolonization, the states of
the West/North had been rendered a numerical minority in the system
of states and the new entrants into the system had begun to clamour for
‘‘justice’’, ‘‘representation’’ and, in some cases, ‘‘reparation’’ in the form
of a transfer of resources from the North to the South.10 That such con-
certed action was deemed necessary by the industrialized powers was
clearly demonstrated during the negotiations in the second half of the
1970s on the New International Economic Order (NIEO). These negotia-
tions ended without agreement because the North, led by the United
States, was unwilling to make the concessions necessary to make a dent
in the industrialized countries’ privileged position in the world economy.
The stalemate on NIEO left intact the status quo that favoured the global
North.11
The conclusion that the industrialized states must act in relative unison
was reinforced by the end of the Cold War, which removed the veneer
of superpower competition from the reality of a North–South contradic-
tion, which was economic, political, military and, some would argue, civi-
lizational and cultural as well. This understanding was reflected in the
popularity in the global North of the neoliberal argument that privileged
absolute gains over relative gains.12 This argument depicted, among
other things, the common interests of the affluent and the powerful states
in cooperating with each other to further their economic and security
goals. Although the neoliberals argued for the universal validity of their
paradigm in an increasingly integrating world, it was clear that the neo-
liberal model was basically grounded in the realities of the global North.
The ethnocentric nature of the neoliberal enterprise demonstrated by im-
plication the difference between the states of the global North and those
of the global South. The latter, as some analysts were quick to point out,
continued to work under the supposedly discredited realist framework
and, therefore, could not be assimilated into a neoliberal world.13
More importantly, the neoliberal rhetoric provided a cover for the re-
alist foundations on which North–South relations, in the economic as well
as the political-military fields, were and are based. James Richardson has
pointed this out very succinctly. According to him, neoliberalism has ‘‘a
striking resemblance to certain forms of realism. Both seek to reinforce
the interests of the powerful by enjoining accommodation to them . . .
The major contrast is that realism places power at the center of its theo-
rizing, whereas neoliberalism shows its respect for power through total
silence.’’14 Neoliberalism did yeoman service to the industrialized coun-
tries by promoting the status quo and making it intellectually respectable
while concealing the element of raw power that underwrote this status
quo. It did so by implicitly acknowledging the critical role of power while
obfuscating its importance by means of the absolute gains rhetoric.
The concept of absolute gains that informs the mutual relationships
of the industrialized countries in both the economic and security spheres
can neither explain nor determine either the security predicament or the
economic quandary faced by states in the third world. This is better ex-
plained by a realist, but not neo-realist, logic that is informed by the in-
equality in North–South relations, as well as by the security predicament
faced by many states in the global South, which is related to their early
stage of state-making and late entry into the system of states.15 These cir-
cumstances make for greater disorder within states of the global South
as well as a higher propensity for intra-state and inter-state conflict in
the third world. They also explain the high degree of economic inequality
within these states as well as the great chasm separating them from the
industrialized countries in terms of economic development and affluence.
The chasm between the global North and the global South also helps
explain the nature of the Concert and its objective of creating an interna-
tional order that preserves its privileged position in the international sys-
tem while containing the level of disorder within it, seen as mostly ema-
nating from the global South. Given the congruence of interests among
the industrialized states of the global North, the United States’ unrivalled
power does not undermine the unity of the Concert; it augments its power
vis-à-vis those outside the Concert. Therefore, in the current context,
unipolarity is quite compatible with the notion of a Concert of Powers,
albeit one in which one of the members is far more powerful than the
others and, therefore, demands and is accorded due deference. It would
be apt to describe it as a ‘‘unipolar concert’’, a term that simultaneously
depicts the unrivalled power of the Concert’s leader and demonstrates
the basic cohesion of its members’ interests.
The use of the term ‘‘unipolarity’’, itself a derivative of polarity, in
much of the Western discussion of contemporary international affairs
serves a useful rhetorical purpose because it portrays the image that the
return to the good old days of balance of power politics is not far away.
By doing so, it diverts analytical attention from, and thus obscures the re-
ality of, the real clash of interests between the strong and affluent states
represented by the Concert, on the one hand, and the weak and poor
states, a much more amorphous group, on the other. By emphasizing
unipolarity and the tactical differences that emerge from time to time be-
tween the leading power and the pack that it leads, members of the Con-
cert hide the fact that there is a basic agreement among them about the
rules and norms of the international system and the basic premises on
which international order should be organized. Unipolarity is, therefore,
a convenient smokescreen by which much of the blame for excesses com-

mitted on behalf of the Concert is shifted to the leader of the pack, with
the other members of the Concert portrayed as ‘‘reasonable’’ actors un-
able to control the more rapacious instincts of the unipolar power. It al-
lows members of the Concert to play the ‘‘good cop, bad cop’’ routine for
the consumption of those outside the Concert.
This became very clear in the case of the invasion of Iraq and, subse-
quently, the issue of the presumed threat of Iranian nuclear proliferation.
European powers, especially France and Germany, were portrayed in
both cases as trying to restrain the aggressively interventionist procliv-
ities of the United States. In the case of Iraq, this allowed them to remain
relatively unscathed in terms of the criticism heaped upon the United
States in the Muslim world and indeed in much of the global South. In
the case of Iran, it has provided them leverage with Tehran; it adds
strength to their argument that, if Iran turns down their ‘‘reasonable’’
offer, the United States may decide to go it alone and Iran may have
to face dire consequences for its recalcitrance.
The term ‘‘globalization’’, which has become synonymous with market
fundamentalism, serves the same purpose of providing a veneer that hides
more than it depicts. Moreover, it has the added merit of meaning many
things to many people. As Graham Allison has pointed out, ‘‘[a]s cur-
rently used, globalization is too often an ill-defined pointer to a disparate
array of phenomena – frequently accompanied by heavy breathing that
implies that behind these phenomena, or at their root, is some yet-to-be-
discovered substance’’.16 The term ‘‘globalization’’ portrays a false image
of an interdependent international economy in which, once again, abso-
lute gains for all are bound to outweigh relative gains if the market alone
is allowed to determine economic outcomes unhindered by political and
governmental interference.
This strategy makes a great deal of sense from the point of view of the
Concert that sits atop the international economic structure as well as the
international security structure. It is rational for the powerful to portray
their own relative gains vis-à-vis the rest as absolute gains for the entire
international society. It also makes great sense for them to put a strong
case that the status quo that protects (in fact enhances) the advantages
they enjoy is best for all human kind. However, serious analysts must not
take such claims at face value. Samuel Huntington has portrayed this re-
ality very bluntly: ‘‘The West is attempting and will continue to attempt
to sustain its preeminent position and defend its interests by defining
those interests as the interests of the ‘world community.’ That phrase
has become the euphemistic collective noun . . . to give global legitimacy
to actions reflecting the interests of the United States and other Western
powers.’’17
Globalization has the potential to augment inequality both within states

and between them unless it is carefully monitored and shepherded by
sophisticated regulatory institutions established by the state. This is the
core argument of Stiglitz’s critique of market-driven globalization. He
has argued convincingly that, for globalization to work effectively and
spread wealth around, it must be a ‘‘managed’’ process in which demo-
cratic governments exercise more power than the International Monetary
Fund (IMF) or global markets.18 Even the pro-globalization guru Jagdish
Bhagwati acknowledges the importance of appropriate governance to
manage globalization better.19 Unfortunately, not merely is there a
dearth of democratic governments in the global South, but most post-
colonial states do not possess the managerial resources effectively to op-
erate regulatory institutions that would mitigate the more perverse ef-
fects of unfettered globalization. Consequently, in the developing world
unmanaged globalization acting through the instrument of indiscriminate
economic liberalization has the potential to create far more losers than
winners.20
Regrettably, multilateral regimes, which are often portrayed as mecha-
nisms with the capacity to curtail the more predatory outcomes of free
market globalization and economic liberalization, frequently fail to do so.
They fail because most such regimes, especially the IMF and the World
Bank, reflect the power inequalities – embodied among other things in
the weighted voting rules under which they operate – within the interna-
tional system. Therefore, those who wield financial and economic power
heavily influence the decisions of these regimes. They thus become a part
of the problem rather than a part of the solution. In many ways, they con-
form to Sean Kay’s definition of globalization. Kay suggests that ‘‘[g]lob-
alization is best understood as a technologically facilitated proliferation
of the means through which power within the international system is
channeled and pursued’’.21 Such a nuanced understanding of globaliza-
tion forces us to reconsider assumptions that globalization is a fundamen-
tal break from the power relations of the past and the harbinger of a new
future.
Multilateralism and unipolarity: Artificial contradiction
Recent disagreements within the Concert and an increase in unilateral

activities by the United States, principally in Iraq but also on issues such
as the environment, have led many to predict the demise of the post–
World War II order and the emergence of an international system predi-
cated on different sets of relationships. Some have proclaimed that this is
the ‘‘end of the West’’ as we have known it in international relations.22
This chapter does not mean to belittle these fissures, because they are in
fact quite real in terms of strategy and tactics. However, we do not
believe that these developments will result in a radical change in intra-
Concert relations or in the use of multilateralism as we know it, for two
reasons.
First, the Concert of the North Atlantic – with the United States in the
lead – maintains its power in the international system by exploiting the
multilateral regimes (be they in the financial, trade or security realm) it
has worked so hard to create over the past 50 years. It is, therefore, un-
likely that the United States or the major European powers will eviscer-
ate a mechanism that has served them so well for so long and that has be-
come embedded in their conception of the international system. There
have always been disagreements about, and various levels of ambiva-
lence toward, specific forms of multilateralism. Although the disagree-
ments may seem more pronounced today, there is nothing to suggest that
powerful states have given up on the fundamental features of the multi-
lateral order over which they preside.
Second, disagreements in the Concert are often around policy choices,
as opposed to the fundamental rules of the system or the basic objectives
set by the Concert of Powers. Deterring and punishing ‘‘rogue’’ states and
denying unconventional capabilities to those outside the Club were, and
are, shared objectives from which no member of the Concert dissents.
This was very clear in the run-up to the invasion of Iraq in 2003. A care-
ful reading of the UN Security Council debates on Iraq from 1991 to 2003
makes it obvious that there was hardly any dissent among the club of
powerful states that steps should be taken in relation to Iraq that would
severely derogate from Iraq’s sovereignty and eventually bring about
regime change in that country. The imposition of no-fly zones and inva-
sive inspections under UN auspices between 1991 and 2003 clearly dem-
onstrated this unity of purpose. The differences were over the tactics that
should be employed in order to achieve these ends. It was these differ-
ences that came to a head in 2003 on the eve of the invasion of Iraq by
the United States and the United Kingdom. The same applies to the Con-
cert’s objectives regarding Iran. The shared objective is to deny Iran nu-
clear weapons capabilities and to curb its regional influence; the debate is
about how best to attain these goals. The differences among leading mem-
bers of the Concert are, once again, tactical rather than fundamental.
A similar situation prevails in the economic arena. Although there may
be differences over details and even intra-Concert bickering about cer-
tain issues (for example, the US attempt to impose tariffs on European
steel), there is a basic consensus about prying open world markets under
the guise of free trade and liberal investment policies, thus making it eas-
ier for developed countries to market their high-valued-added products
and to invest in profitable ventures abroad. This is accompanied by the

imposition of conditionalities known as structural adjustments on third
world economies that would ostensibly help to reduce their fiscal deficit.
It is clear that none of this can be achieved without the use of multilateral
mechanisms, such as the World Bank, the IMF, the World Trade Organi-
zation, and many others. The Concert of industrialized states, working
through the G-7 in particular, harmonizes its economic policy in such a
fashion that it can effectively use these multilateral forums to promote
its neoliberal agenda.
Multilateralism is a difficult mechanism to operate and we do not
suggest that the arrangements and initiatives that currently exist under
the rubric of multilateralism will remain exactly the same. However, it is
unlikely that the instrument as a whole will be jettisoned, if only because
of the deep commitment many members of the Concert have made to
maintain it and the way multilateral institutions have by and large served
the purposes of the dominant Concert. In addition, we can also argue
that multilateral institutions in the global North are being strengthened
as the states from Eastern Europe try to gain acceptance in the rest of
Europe by seeking membership in the European Union and NATO.
The deepening and broadening of multilateral institutions in the North
have had the added effect of reinforcing the divide between those in
the Concert and those on the outside. In short, multilateralism has not
proved to be antithetical to unipolarity. In fact, the two have worked in
tandem to promote the interests of the global North in both the economic
and the security spheres.
The North versus the South: Economics
The self-serving nature of Northern claims about unfettered globalization

and the integration of the world economy on terms determined by the in-
dustrialized countries is obvious in the economic arena. Bringing down
barriers imposed by state boundaries allows the economically powerful
states to penetrate weak and vulnerable societies, especially those with-
out adequate regulatory mechanisms and with unrepresentative regimes,
many of which are dependent upon the major powers for their security.
Moreover, the majority of economic interactions that make for inter-
dependence in a ‘‘globalizing’’ world take place among the triad of North
America, Europe and Japan. As Hirst and Thompson have pointed out,
‘‘[c]apital mobility is not producing a massive shift of investment and em-
ployment from the advanced to the developing countries. Rather foreign
direct investment (FDI) is highly concentrated among the advanced
industrial economies and the Third World remains marginal in both
investment and trade, a small minority of newly industrializing countries

apart.’’23 Another analyst has concluded recently that, ‘‘[o]ver the past
eight years, Americans invested twice as much in the Netherlands as in
Mexico and ten times as much as in China . . . Conversely, Europe pro-
vides 75 per cent of all investment in the United States.’’24
The disproportionate benefits of globalization that go to the developed
states are not limited to FDI flows alone. In different forms this argument
applies also to the protection of intellectual copyrights and patents as well
as access to markets and cheap labour in the third world by multinational
corporations headquartered in the global North. It applies too to the
hundreds of billions of dollars in farm export subsidies by countries of
the global North, as well as the imposition by the same countries of tariff
and non-tariff barriers on the import of selected commodities, both agri-
cultural and non-agricultural, on grounds of dumping. If everything else
fails, the ‘‘primitive’’ social conditions under which exportable goods are
produced in the countries of the global South are used as the clinching
argument to disqualify them from being sold in the markets of ‘‘civilized’’
countries.
The skewed nature of globalization is demonstrated above all by
the fact that, although much is made of the need to provide for the un-
fettered mobility of goods and capital globally, no voices are raised in
the global North in favour of the free mobility of labour, and therefore
of human beings, across the globe. Even Turkey’s prospective, and not
too certain, membership of the European Union has been made contin-
gent by the European Commission on Ankara’s accepting very limited
migration to Europe from Turkey in contrast to unregulated movement
among peoples of the existing EU member states.25 The logic of eco-
nomic globalization is supposed to apply selectively to cases that enhance
the interests of the powerful against the weak, of the rich against the
poor, but not vice versa. Furthermore, these rules are becoming em-
bedded in an increasingly institutionalized and legalized multilateral
order that would make it difficult to bring about radical transformations
in the near future.
The North versus the South: Politics and security
In the political arena, tearing down the sovereignty barrier in the name
of humanitarian intervention serves much the same purpose of preserv-
ing the dominance of the global North. Such interventions undertaken se-
lectively to punish ‘‘rogue’’ states such as Iraq and Yugoslavia that are
unwilling to fall in line with the wishes of the great powers send the clear
message that opposing the international establishment is likely to incur
heavy costs. The selectivity with which the normative injunctions of the
emerging global society are applied makes this charade very clear. Inter-
ventions take place when it suits the strategic and economic interests of
the ‘‘coalition of the willing and the able’’ (read, the North Atlantic Con-
cert). Where it does not suit the global hegemon or the dominant Con-
cert, the evolving norms of supposedly global society are disdainfully dis-
regarded. The cases of Rwanda and Sudan exemplify this outlook.26
The selectivity demonstrated in the application of the norms of global
society leads one to draw two important conclusions. First, sovereignty
continues to be a cherished value as far as powerful states and their cli-
ents are concerned. Advising the weak to dispense with sovereignty and
with their preoccupation with state security and relative gains is one thing;
applying it to powerful states and their coalitions is quite another. As
Lyons and Mastanduno have pointed out, the argument that sovereignty
has been superseded as the organizing principle of international political
life cannot be successfully sustained unless it is demonstrated ‘‘by refer-
ence to ‘critical’ cases . . . The clearest set of critical cases would involve
instances in which the exertion of some form of international authority
significantly constrained major powers in their pursuit of their interests
. . . If we look at the present processes of international decision making
[the veto power of the P-5 in the UN Security Council and the G-7’s
domination of international financial institutions], however, the prospect
of finding such critical cases appears to be unlikely.’’27
Second, the rhetoric of globalization and of the global society is em-
ployed to provide a facade for the operation of a very realist paradigm
by the powerful states of the global North in their relationship with the
states of the global South, many of which continue to be weak and vul-
nerable and, therefore, incapable of ensuring their own security. Austra-
lian scholar James Richardson has captured this reality very lucidly.
Analysing the post–Cold War period, he concludes: ‘‘Self interest now
appears to dictate that the leading powers remain associates rather than
rivals, as balance of power logic would have required, but the anarchic
system structure points to their retaining a military capability to protect
their favored position against the less favored.’’28
The retention of vastly superior military capability is currently achieved
through what has come to be known as the Revolution in Military Affairs
(RMA) or the Military Technological Revolution (MTR). RMA capacity
has been summed up succinctly by Eliot Cohen in the following words:
‘‘What can be seen by high-tech sensors can be hit, what can be hit will
be destroyed.’’29 The concentration of such capacity in the hands of a
very few states makes one thing very clear, namely that the hierarchy of
military power has seldom been as rigidly stratified as it has become to-
day as a result of RMA. The United States, the leading RMA power, sits
in lonely glory at the top of the technological-military pyramid.30 A

group of major industrialized countries plus Israel is clustered probably
two-thirds of the way up the pyramid. The rest form the base of the pyra-
mid, except for a few, such as China and maybe India, that have been
able to claw their way up to about a quarter of the pyramid’s height. For
those located at the base of the pyramidal structure or close to it, the pros-
pects could range from the very uncomfortable to the extremely scary.
The RMA’s lessons regarding the extreme disparity in military power
and its political consequences have been emphasized over and over again
since 1990. They were made explicit during the first Gulf war and, with
increasingly greater clarity, during the bombing of Yugoslavia in 1999
and the US-led military campaign in Afghanistan in 2001–2002. They
have been most dramatically driven home by the US campaign of ‘‘shock
and awe’’ conducted against Iraq in March–April 2003. What impressed
much of the global South with regard to these military ventures was not
the righteousness or otherwise of the causes espoused by the dominant
Concert or the unipolar power acting on its behalf. What overawed coun-
tries of the global South most was the enormous destructive power that
the coalition, and especially the United States, brought to bear on its en-
emies from long distances, thereby making itself immune to retaliation.
The precision and impunity with which the US-led Concert was able to
destroy the vital military nerve centres of Iraq and Yugoslavia, which
rendered them incapable of defending themselves, were perceived as
technological miracles that dwarfed even the nuclear weapons revolution
in terms of their actual impact on military affairs.
The use of RMA weaponry by the United States and its allies has left
an indelible mark on the psyche of the third world political élites. On
the one hand, it has markedly increased their feeling of insecurity. On
the other, those among third world élites who continue to harbour a defi-
ant streak or perceive their countries to be in danger of being labelled
‘‘rogue’’ states have been spurred to find a counterbalance that might
deter RMA powers from initiating military action against them. These
counterbalances are obtainable in only two forms. They can be procured
either as weapons of mass destruction, however rudimentary, accom-
panied by delivery systems that can reach RMA troop and weapons con-
centrations at relatively long distances (nuclear, chemical or biological
warheads plus missiles) or as ‘‘terror’’ tactics that render RMA weapons
militarily irrelevant, thereby making them politically useless. A highly
asymmetrical distribution of conventional military capabilities, a product
of the military-technological revolution, has brought about equally asym-
metrical responses that threaten to obliterate the distinction between
conventional and unconventional warfare.
The attempt by ‘‘states of concern’’, including North Korea and Iran,
to acquire weapons of mass destruction and missile capability, as well

as terrorist attacks on soft US and other Northern targets, which seem
to be on the rise as witnessed in Iraq, Afghanistan and elsewhere, should
be seen at least in part as the response of certain states and non-state ac-
tors in the third world to the acquisition and use of RMA weapons by the
United States and its allies and their deployment against immeasurably
weaker adversaries. For those in the global South bent on defying the
dominant Concert, and especially the unipolar power, weapons of mass
destruction and terrorist tactics seem to be the only instruments that can
act as a counterbalance of sorts against the precision guided conventional
weaponry that can be unleashed by the United States and the coalition
it leads. This adds to their attraction for those who are unwilling to em-
brace the New World Order, with its military, economic and normative
corollaries, that the dominant coalition is intent on imposing on the rest
of the members of the international system. Iraq has become the prime
example of asymmetrical unconventional warfare, just as it had been the
model of asymmetrical conventional warfare in 2003.
Conclusion
What does all this mean for the issue of unipolarity and multilateralism in
a globalizing world? It means first that unipolarity, although it gives the
impression of US hegemony, is, despite intra-alliance differences, a pre-
tence for what is really a Concert of Powers, which we have dubbed the
Concert of the North Atlantic. Where differences emerge within the Con-
cert, they appear on issues of strategy and tactics not those of objectives
and goals. The Concert is clearly led by the United States, which, as all
leaders do, sometimes moves so far ahead of the pack that it makes the
rest very uncomfortable. Manoeuvrings then start to bring it back into
line. It is in this context that arguments about the value of institutions
that bind the hegemon are made.31 The Kissinger and Summers report
cited earlier makes it plain that ‘‘[d]isagreements on policy, not differ-
ences over the utility of international institutions, have caused most of
these [recent] clashes’’ in the transatlantic relationship.32 The European
insistence that the United States give more attention to multilateralism is
a plea for consultation among members of the Concert, not an argument
to strengthen institutions of global governance in which the less powerful
would have a major voice. This is a distinction that must clearly be borne
in mind by analysts engaged in debating the merits of multilateralism
versus unilateralism. For those outside the Concert, multilateralism and
unilateralism often appear as variations on the same theme of uninvited
intervention.
The institutional constraint argument is made largely to draw the

leader back in to the pack rather than make it accountable through the
medium of international institutions to the entire membership of interna-
tional society. Those outside the pack continue to remain marginal actors
in the international arena, if not mere spectators to these manoeuvrings.
Eventually compromises are reached that restore the unity of the pack
without embarrassing the leader too much. This is clearly demonstrated
by what has been happening in the wake of the war against Iraq both in
the Security Council and outside. The fact that these manoeuvrings have
not been completely successful is owing in large part to the all-pervasive
insecurity in Iraq thanks to the resilience of, and resistance put up by, in-
surgent forces in that country. It is reasonable to assume that, without the
insurgency and the accompanying insecurity in Iraq, the United States
on the one hand and France and Germany on the other would have rec-
onciled their differences much earlier and would be working together in
Iraq through a number of multilateral instruments and organizations.
Therefore, when viewed from beyond the confines of the Concert, the
discussion about unipolarity and globalization, as well as about unipolar-
ity and multilateralism, that portrays the two sets of concepts as diamet-
rically opposed appears to be an elaborate pretence. To many, they ap-
pear two sides of the same coin. This is the reason the unipolar power’s
near-hegemonic image does not bother the other members of the Con-
cert too much. It is also the reason globalization is seen as a benign phe-
nomenon from within the Concert because it does not imply any real shift
in the distribution of capabilities and, therefore, of power positions with-
in the international system.
What we have tried to do is to point out that the discussion about
unipolarity versus other forms of polarity, bipolarity and multipolarity,
or about the relevance or irrelevance of unipolarity to the age of global-
ization, is really marginal to the major problem facing international soci-
ety in the contemporary era. The main impasse facing international soci-
ety today is the huge disparity in power between the Concert of the
North Atlantic (including Japan, and with Russia and possibly China co-
opted as peripheral appendages to the Concert), on the one hand, and the
rest of the members of the international system, on the other. This dis-
parity and the cavalier use of power by the dominant Concert, and not
just the United States, against selected targets have created a situation
that threatens the already fragile normative consensus underpinning
international society. The unilateral actions on the part of the United
States, as in Iraq, threaten not so much the integrity of the Concert as
the foundational norms of international society, such as sovereignty and
non-intervention, which had provided the basis for that society in the first
place. If this trend continues, we may end up with a hyper-realist world in
which ‘‘the strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must’’.
This backsliding from society to anarchy, despite the solidarists’ naive
claims to the contrary, is a prelude to a serious breakdown of order in
the international system.33
We see signs of this impending anarchy in unilateral military actions
in defiance of international consensus and in doctrines justifying preven-
tative, and not merely pre-emptive, war. We see it in escalating interna-
tional terrorism and what appears to many as an approaching ‘‘clash of
civilizations’’ between the ‘‘Judeo-Christian’’ North/West and the Mus-
lim world. We see it also in the attraction that weapons of mass destruc-
tion (WMD) hold for the weak. The episode linked to Pakistani nuclear
scientist A. Q. Khan has demonstrated that the dissemination of nuclear
material and technology is no longer all that difficult to achieve. Notwith-
standing the Libyan decision to renounce WMD and Iran’s greater,
although hesitant, cooperation with the International Atomic Energy
Agency, the incentive to proliferate has increased during the past decade.
North Korea’s recent public admission that it possesses nuclear weapons
may be an indication of things to come.34 This may very well be because,
as stated earlier, acquisition of WMD capacity appears to the weak and
the vulnerable as their most effective defence against the possession of
RMA weaponry by members of the powerful Concert led by the United
States. Efforts to acquire WMD and the spread of international terrorism
demonstrate that the imposition of order, without it being tempered by
justice, creates its own backlash. This is a lesson that the capitals of the
major powers forget at their own peril.
Similarly, unless globalization is tempered by a genuine concern for
intra-state and inter-state justice, it is likely to become a serious source
of destabilization both domestically and internationally. Resentment
against globalization among those who feel left out, indeed hurt badly,
by its relentless free market logic, which disregards negative social conse-
quences, is building up in the global South. Such resentment is likely to
increase as Southern polities democratize and previously disempowered
segments of their populations undergo rapid political mobilization
and access to political power. This is why it is important to heed the
words of Foreign Policy in its study of globalization, which suggest that
‘‘those most interested in promoting global integration must do more to
heed the concerns of those who feel marginalized by it, lest the backlash
against globalization becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy’’.35 The rejection
by the Indian electorate in 2004 of the globalization-friendly ruling Hindu
nationalist party’s slogan ‘‘India Shining’’ can in part be directly attrib-
uted to the backlash among the rural and urban poor against the growing
economic inequalities in the world’s largest electoral democracy.
To conclude, we do not believe that there is any inherent contradiction
either between unipolarity and multilateralism or between unipolarity

and globalization. All three, as currently conceived and practised, serve
the interests of what we have called the dominant, unipolar Concert.
However, the danger we see is that the growing chasm between the Con-
cert and other members of international society is increasingly becoming
a major source of instability and disorder in the international system. It is
time that those engaged in the practice of international relations in the
global North redefined their conceptions of globalization and multilater-
alism to make these concepts, and the strategies that emanate from them,
more inclusive and less subservient to the interests only of those who
dominate the international security and economic power structures.
Notes
A previous version of this chapter appeared as ‘‘The Unipolar Concert: The North–South
Divide Trumps Transatlantic Differences’’, World Policy Journal, Vol. 22, No. 1 (2005).
1. Richard Bernstein, ‘‘Many in Europe See U.S. Vote as a Lose-Lose Affair’’, New York
Times, 29 October 2004.
2. Joseph S. Nye, Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics (New York: Public
Affairs, 2004), p. 20. This, of course, counters Robert Kagan’s argument that, ‘‘on major
strategic and international questions today, Americans are from Mars and Europeans
are from Venus’’. Robert Kagan, Of Paradise and Power: America and Europe in the
New World Order (New York: Knopf, 2003), p. 3.
3. Stephen R. Weisman, ‘‘Rice Calls on Europe to Join in Building a Safer World’’, New
York Times, 9 February 2005.
4. Stephen D. Krasner, Structural Conflict (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1985).
5. For an analysis that juxtaposes the collective aspirations of third world states and their
individual vulnerabilities, thus elucidating the apparently schizophrenic tendencies they
demonstrate, see Mohammed Ayoob, ‘‘The Third World in the System of States: Acute
Schizophrenia or Growing Pains?’’, International Studies Quarterly (March 1989),
pp. 67–79.
6. Henry A. Kissinger and Lawrence H. Summers (co-chairs) and Charles A. Kupchan
(project director), Renewing the Atlantic Partnership: Report of an Independent Task
Force Sponsored by the Council on Foreign Relations (New York: Council on Foreign
Relations, 2004), p. 7.
7. For prominent analyses that posit that the end of the Cold War heralded fundamental
systemic transformation, see Samuel Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the
Making of World Order (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), and Francis Fukuyama,
The End of History and the Last Man (New York: Free Press, 1992).
8. Joseph S. Nye, Jr, Understanding International Conflicts (5th edn, New York: Pearson,
2005), p. 37.
9. For a succinct case that the United States’ current global predominance constitutes uni-
polarity, see Stephen G. Brooks and William C. Wohlforth, ‘‘American Primacy in Per-
spective’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 18, No. 4 (July/August 2002), pp. 20–33.
10. This is what Hedley Bull had aptly termed ‘‘the revolt against the West’’, which went
beyond issues of politics and economics to the norms and rules governing international
society. Hedley Bull, ‘‘The Revolt against the West’’, in Hedley Bull and Adam Watson,
The Expansion of International Society (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984), pp. 217–228.
11. Krasner, Structural Conflict; Robert Mortimer, The Third World Coalition in Interna-
tional Politics (2nd edn, Boulder, CO: Westview, 1986).
12. For a classic assertion of neoliberalism, see Robert Keohane, After Hegemony (Prince-
ton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984).
13. For example, James M. Goldgeier and Michael McFaul, ‘‘A Tale of Two Worlds: Core
and Periphery in the Post-Cold War Era’’, International Organization, Vol. 46, No. 2
(Spring 1992).
14. James L. Richardson, Contending Liberalisms in World Politics: Ideology and Power
(Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2001), pp. 89–90.
15. For a theoretical exposition of this perspective, see Mohammed Ayoob, ‘‘Inequality and
Theorizing in International Relations: The Case for Subaltern Realism’’, International
Studies Review (Fall 2002), pp. 27–48.
16. Graham Allison, ‘‘The Impact of Globalization on National and International Security’’,
in Joseph S. Nye and John D. Donahue, eds, Governance in a Globalizing World
(Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2000), p. 72.
17. Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order
(New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), p. 184.
18. Joseph E. Stiglitz, Globalization and Its Discontents (New York: W. W. Norton, 2002).
19. Jagdish Bhagwati, In Defense of Globalization (New York: Oxford University Press,
2004).
20. Dani Rodrik, The New Global Economy and Developing Countries: Making Openness
Work (Washington, DC: Overseas Development Council, 1999).
21. Sean Kay, ‘‘Globalization, Power, and Security’’, Security Dialogue, Vol. 35, No. 1
(2004), p. 11.
22. For example, see Charles Kupchan, The End of the American Era (New York: Knopf,
2002), and Robert Kagan, Of Paradise and Power: America and Europe in the New
World Order (New York: Knopf, 2003).
23. Paul Hirst and Grahame Thompson, Globalization in Question (2nd edn, Cambridge:
Polity, 1999), p. 2.
24. William Drozdiak, ‘‘The North Atlantic Drift’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 84, No. 1
(January–February 2005), p. 89.
25. Elaine Sciolino, ‘‘Turkey Advances in Its Bid to Join European Union’’, New York
Times, 7 October 2004.
26. For details of this argument, see Mohammed Ayoob, ‘‘Humanitarian Intervention and
State Sovereignty’’, International Journal of Human Rights, Vol. 6, No. 1 (Spring 2002),
pp. 81–102.
27. Gene M. Lyons and Michael Mastanduno, ‘‘Introduction: International Intervention,
State Sovereignty, and the Future of International Society’’, in Gene M. Lyons and
Michael Mastanduno, Beyond Westphalia? State Sovereignty and International Inter-
vention (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995), p. 17.
28. James L. Richardson, ‘‘The End of Geopolitics?’’, in Richard Leaver and James L.
Richardson, eds, Charting the Post-Cold War Order (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1993),
pp. 45–46.
29. Eliot A. Cohen, ‘‘A Revolution in Warfare’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 75, No. 2 (March–
April 1996), p. 45. Also see Lawrence Freedman, ‘‘Revolutions in Military Affairs’’, in
Gwyn Prins and Hylke Tromp, eds, The Future of War (Boston, MA: Kluwer Law Inter-
national, 2000).
30. Joseph S. Nye, Jr and William A. Owens, ‘‘America’s Information Edge’’, Foreign Af-
fairs, Vol. 75, No. 2 (March–April 1996), pp. 20–36.
31. John Ikenberry, After Victory (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001).
32. Kissinger and Summers (co-chairs) and Kupchan (project director), Renewing the
Atlantic Partnership, p. 20.
33. For a discussion of the notion of international society in an anarchic international sys-
tem, see Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society (New York: Columbia University Press,
1977), and Robert Jackson, The Global Covenant (New York: Oxford University Press,
2000). For a sophisticated solidarist conception of international society, see Nicholas
Wheeler, Saving Strangers (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000).
34. James Brooke, ‘‘North Korea Says It Has Nuclear Weapons and Rejects Talks’’, New
York Times, 10 February 2005.
35. A. T. Kearney, ‘‘Measuring Globalization: Who’s Up, Who’s Down?’’, Foreign Policy
(January/February 2003), p. 72.
4
International peace and security
and state sovereignty: Contesting
norms and norm entrepreneurs
Brian L. Job
Introduction
This chapter provides some analytical purchase towards an under-

standing of the structural and normative forces that contend within the
contemporary international order. Daily headlines, comment columns
and titles of academic treatises trumpet these tensions, referring to US
imperialism, unilateralism, pre-emption, the circumvention (indeed the
irrelevance) of the United Nations, the abrogation of treaties, the utility
of coalitions of the willing, the crisis of failed states, a war on terrorism,
etc. Taken in sum, these present a picture of an international system un-
able to cope with the dramatic structural upheaval of the past decade and
a half and struggling against the onslaught of a singular global power de-
termined to remake a global order to meet its own interests.
Although much of this is hype and thus ephemeral, it is a symptomatic
indication of the deeper challenges to the fundamental norms of state
sovereignty, non-intervention, the legitimate use of force and multilat-
eralism that have underpinned the international institutional order since
World War II. Not surprisingly, these challenges are particularly evident
concerning the United Nations – the world’s core institution responsible
for international peace and security – and the United States – a state
that, although the world’s dominant power, perceives itself simultane-
ously under threat and ill served by contemporary multilateral security
organizations.
Within this context, this chapter reminds the reader that, although the
57
58 BRIAN L. JOB
intensity of these tensions may be remarkable, the existence of such

tensions is a defining feature of international life, reflecting an ongoing,
dynamic, social construction of norms and institutions by states and non-
state actors.1
The chapter proceeds to make the following arguments. In general,
reliance on the logics of structural change, hierarchy and the distribution
of material capabilities is itself insufficient to explain the motivations
and actions of states concerning the use of force and the use of multilat-
eral institutions. Thus, the formation and operation of international insti-
tutions cannot be explained (away) as an ‘‘institutional bargain’’ dictated
by the relative power distribution between leading and weaker states.
Nor can structural changes in the distribution of power themselves ac-
count for dramatic transformations in international institutions or the
reshaping of such institutions in the aftermath of major wars or systemic
upheaval. Ideational forces, the normative precepts of key states and
their actors and the ‘‘binding’’ influence of the norms underpinning exist-
ing institutions are key. The institutions and their operational modalities
that emerge, therefore, reflect the ‘‘institutional compact’’ that can be
sustained at any particular moment in the system. Change comes about
through the evolution of actors’ normative agendas, which, although
prompted through structural change and dramatic events, are not deter-
mined by them.
The application of this abstract argument to the present sees the Uni-
ted Nations as an institution that reflects an evolving institutional compact
mediating the tensions between norms of sovereignty, non-intervention
and the use of force to gain peace and security. In turn, the United States
is seen as a leading state actor, one acting as a ‘‘norm entrepreneur’’ to
shape international institutions and to operate multilaterally to advance
its national interest, as articulated by an élite political and bureaucratic
cohort. In this regard, the United States has unilateral impulses and
capacities but is more appropriately viewed as a self-interested, instru-
mental multilateral player. Thus, the United States, and its reactions to
the events of 1989 and 2001, in particular, must be given due attention.
These tensions and pressures, however, are being countered by the accu-
mulating momentum of perceived imperatives to act on behalf of civilians
caught in intra-state conflicts and to intervene in the context of ‘‘failed
states’’ where governments have failed to protect or have preyed upon
their own citizens. In this regard, certain middle power states, along with
the Secretary-General of the United Nations and select individual per-
sonalities, were the key norm entrepreneurs over the course of the 1990s.
The past decade thus reflects a trend (one that I regard as irreversible)
towards institutional compacts that entrench norms of human security
and sovereignty as entailing a responsibility to protect.
CONTESTING NORMS AND NORM ENTREPRENEURS 59
International institutions and institutional change
The formation of institutions: Two perspectives
One can compare and contrast two general approaches to explaining why,
how and what types of international institution states form to manage
their economic, political and security relations.2 The first is that the ma-
jor powers or dominant power in the system dictate the form and opera-
tive rules of institutions in a manner that facilitates maximization of their
(its) interests, accepting ‘‘strategic restraints’’ as balanced against the
costs of influence or coercion to gain the compliance of weaker states. In
Ikenberry’s words:
In this institutional bargain, the leading state wants to reduce compliance costs
and weaker states want to reduce their costs of security protection or the costs
they would incur trying to protect their interests against the actions of a dominant
lead state. . . . [T]he leading state agrees to restrain its own potential for domina-
tion and abandonment in exchange for the long-term institutionalized coopera-
tion of subordinate states.3
Ikenberry’s logic is essentially a rationalist one applied to actors defined

according to the asymmetric distribution of capabilities, particularly as
these emerge from the conclusion of a systemic war or arise from an un-
expected structural shift in the distribution of power. The onus and op-
portunity rest with the leading state or coalition of major states to shape
the parameters of the ensuing international institutional order. If a satis-
factory institutional bargain is reached, institutions will persist to the ex-
tent that they continue to satisfy the competing interests of the strong
and the weak, but in particular, for Ikenberry, of the strongest state.4 In-
deed, as institutions sustain their effectiveness and states perceive func-
tional benefits to cooperation within their contexts, the institutions de-
velop qualities of ‘‘stickiness’’ that promote their continued existence,
despite minor disagreements among members and systemic pertur-
bances.5 This explains the longevity of the global economic and regional
security institutions that were central during and indeed following the
Cold War.
An alternative perspective regards institutions as ‘‘social con-
structions’’, i.e. as informal or formal mechanisms that emerge through
the achievement of a consensus on norms of identity and of procedure
among state actors. Institutions thus display a ‘‘collective identity’’, inso-
far as there is agreement among members about their common interests
and the extent and purposes of their cooperative endeavour. There is a
‘‘bargain’’ in such an institutional model as well, namely that members
60 BRIAN L. JOB
perceive sufficiently common components of their individual identities to

reveal a core set of norms around which to structure a cooperative frame-
work.6 This core may be a minimalist one, in that little more than collec-
tive recognition of other actors is involved; it could involve trade-offs,
in that states balance their privileging of territorial sovereignty against
their desire to protect human rights. But this ‘‘bargain’’ or ‘‘institutional
compact’’, as it will be termed in this chapter, is not determined by a bal-
ancing of material capabilities and governed by rationalist calculations.
Structural characteristics are relevant – some states are more important
than others. However, in this constructivist approach to institutions,
there is a capacity for leadership by non-major powers to the extent
that they can articulate and create coalitions around common normative
agendas and institutional procedures. In this context, non-state actors can
play important roles in shaping ideas and advancing normative change.
Central, too, is the understanding that institutions evolve as the norma-
tive agendas of their members evolve because of domestic developments
and international interaction.7
Institutional change in the aftermath of ‘‘great events’’
Major structural upheavals in the international order, particularly those

arising in the aftermath of ‘‘world’’ wars, provide opportunities for the
restructuring of international institutions. Thus, the years 1648, 1713,
1815, 1919, 1945 and 1989 all saw ‘‘great events’’, as Holsti calls them,
that involved the leading state or states struggling to design what was
hoped to be a peaceful and lasting international order.8
Not surprisingly, however, the alternative perspectives on international
institutional formation take differing views of the underlying dynamics of
institutional change. For some analysts, determination of the distribution
of material capabilities is sufficient to dictate the key parameters of the
emergent international order.9 For Ikenberry, and many other contem-
porary analysts, the interests of a dominant state are the key – the extent
of the asymmetry in the power distribution between it and the other
states determines the nature of and the advantages to be accrued in con-
structing new, or reconstructing previous, institutional bargains. Thus,
the international order after World War II came to reflect the interna-
tional pre-eminence of the United States, with differing regional order-
ings of Europe and of Asia indicating the relative power asymmetries
between the United States and the states in these respective regional
contexts.
However, a reordered distribution of state capabilities is not by itself
sufficient to explain the transforming of international institutions. The
‘‘big bang’’ theory of great events is challenged on two fronts. In the first
instance, there is a growing body of evidence to suggest that ‘‘great

events’’, which are marked by dramatic alterations in the distribution of
material capabilities, are themselves preceded by – indeed motivated by
– ideational shifts in the world views and priorities of leading actors. Such
normative shifts are now acknowledged to have been substantially re-
sponsible for the ending of the East–West Cold War.10
Second, once the systemic order has been upset, there is no single
answer to the question of the nature of the subsequent institutional order.
A variety of institutional forms can be created within the context of any
one distribution of power, even (perhaps especially) a distribution domi-
nated by a single state. It is ‘‘ideas’’ that matter; i.e. it is the normative
preferences of the lead or leading states in the system that heavily influ-
ence the framework of any international order. Thus, as many have ob-
served regarding the period since the Cold War, the United States has
open to it a spectrum of institutional management options. And, as al-
ready seen in the course of the past 15 years, changes in US leadership
have resulted in several different and, in the present instance, quite dis-
tinctive normative priorities for the role and functioning of international
institutions.
Norm entrepreneurs
In this regard, the role of ‘‘norm entrepreneurs’’ is critical. Established

norms, especially as they become institutionalized in the functioning of
formal organizations, are difficult to change. Members who support the
outcomes that derive from their realization and bureaucrats whose insti-
tutional roles depend upon them can and do create strong resistance to
change. ‘‘Bucking the system’’ is difficult: it requires resources, both idea-
tional and material; a capacity to absorb the costs of nonconformity; and
innovative and distinctive leadership.11 In light of these constraints, one
might expect the leaders and select élites of leading states to be better
positioned to take on norm entrepreneurial roles; and they often do, and
did after 1919, 1945 and 1989. However, the major powers, often those
states benefiting the most from the status quo, do not hold a monopoly
on norm entrepreneurship. This role has often been taken up by middle
power states and non-state actors seeking to advance norms that chal-
lenge the established order. In such instances, success may well be depen-
dent on the activism of powerful individual personalities.
Thus, tensions in the current institutional order can be viewed as ari-
sing from the clash between the distinctive agendas of two different norm
entrepreneurs – the present leadership of the United States and the pro-
active leaders of the human security agenda. In turn, both are meeting
the resistance of states whose interests are satisfied by sustaining West-
62 BRIAN L. JOB
phalian norms of state sovereignty, non-intervention, consensus decision-

making and the exclusive role of the United Nations in authorizing the
use of force.
The United Nations: Fundamental tensions, evolving norms

The institutional compact
The United Nations was created in the mid-twentieth century in the after-
math of the ‘‘great event’’ of World War II. As one of the key compo-
nents of the institutional systemic framework orchestrated by the victori-
ous powers, the United Nations bears the mark of their interests and
aspirations. The United States, just emerging as the post-war leading
state, had significant influence in this context but was not in a position to
overrule the positions of its key Western allies.12 The UN Charter must
be viewed as a particularly complex ‘‘institutional bargain’’ – a bargain
among the major powers themselves and a bargain between these leading
states and the remaining independent states of that era. Thus, the UN ar-
chitecture balances the General Assembly, an inclusive and consensual
body of equals, with the Security Council, a great power management
committee mandated to authorize the use of force but self-constrained
by the veto power given to its permanent five members.
The ‘‘institutional compact’’, i.e. the core set of normative principles
embodied in the United Nations, is fraught with inherent tension. The
enshrining of the principles of state sovereignty, territoriality, non-
intervention and the right of self-defence for all members is juxtaposed
against the rights of the major powers not only to authorize the use of
force but to call for, indeed compel, other states to undertake action on
behalf of the United Nations. Presumably, this trade-off was acceptable
to the leading states, as security providers, and to the other states, which
anticipated both a more secure environment and a restraint upon adven-
turism by the major powers. However, the United Nations’ institutional
compact involved more than this sovereignty/security logic; for the West-
ern allies, a fundamental mission was the advancement and protection of
the human rights of the ‘‘peoples of the world’’. From its inception, the
United Nations and the post-war international community as a whole
wrestled with normative challenges to the absolutist interpretations of
state sovereignty.
The forces of change
The dramatic increase in the membership of the international system

with the decolonization of Asia and Africa brought with it sharpened
tensions over the key norms of the international order. In effect, these
states owed their existence to the combined impact of profound norma-
tive change (the overthrowing of historical norms underpinning colonial-
ism), on the one hand, and the reinforcement of traditional norms (the
claim to sovereign equality and inviolability), on the other. However, the
‘‘quasi-state’’ status of many of these new members raised increasing
concerns for others, both in terms of their practical capacities to sustain
productive international relations with their neighbours and in terms of
the plight of their civilian populations, often exacerbated by government
actions. During the Cold War, these tensions were muted through the
major powers’ exercise of influence on their clients and proxies. But
they were by no means dispelled. As Ted Gurr and his associates have
demonstrated, the rising trend of deadly intra-state violence began sev-
eral decades ago. What has changed is the level of attention given to
these conflicts, owing to the combined effects of Western publics’ aware-
ness through the media of the suffering of civilians, the recognition of the
trans-border and trans-regional spillover effects of such conflicts, and a
more congenial atmosphere within the United Nations for responding to
these situations.13
An invigorated United Nations Security Council, enabled in particular
by a US leadership committed to the advancement of a ‘‘new world
order’’, took up the challenge of responding to these conflicts – the first
few years of the 1990s witnessed the Council’s authorization of more
peace operations than in its previous four decades.14 This enthusiasm
quickly subsided as the practical challenges of mounting substantial multi-
lateral missions, the intractability of communal violence, and the finan-
cial, but more centrally the human, costs of undertaking such missions
were brought home to Western governments. From the mid-1990s on-
wards, the role of the UN Security Council increasingly became limited
to legitimization, i.e. authorizing regional bodies or groups of member
states to intercede in conflict situations.15 The United States, in particu-
lar, backed away from engagement in UN missions, in light of the nar-
rowed parameters of its international role as articulated in President
Clinton’s Presidential Decision Directive 25, and an accompanying pref-
erence for operating in US-led multilateral coalitions.
The redefining of security, responsibility and the use of force
Debates over the authorization and the legitimacy of the use of force
came to the fore towards the end of the 1990s. In simplistic terms, these
have been portrayed as pitting those who seek to maintain the primacy of
state sovereignty, non-intervention and national security against those
who argue for the higher priority of securing the safety and well-being
of citizens. From this latter, ‘‘human security’’ perspective,16 states have
64 BRIAN L. JOB
an overriding ‘‘responsibility to protect’’ their citizens. Regimes that are

either incapable or unwilling to sustain order and basic freedoms should
not be allowed to shelter behind state sovereignty barriers. Equally im-
portant, the international community, especially through the United Na-
tions, is seen to have a responsibility to act on behalf of civilians under
threat, intervening within state boundaries as necessary for their protec-
tion and well-being.
These debates were fuelled by the dilemmas attending a series of
difficult crises, including Rwanda, Bosnia, Sudan and Kosovo, and by
a virtual industry of writings in the academic, think-tank and non-
governmental organization (NGO) communities, especially focused on
humanitarian intervention. The basic ‘‘Westphalian’’ principles of state
sovereignty and non-intervention are under challenge. The tensions at
the heart of the institutional compact underlying the United Nations, in
particular, and the international order, more generally, have not been,
nor can they be, resolved.
Several key dimensions of the movement for normative transformation
deserve attention. First is its rethinking of the traditional concepts of se-
curity and sovereignty, which has four essential components:
(a) The ‘‘broadening of security’’, i.e. the realization that achieving secu-
rity involves much more than attending to perceived military threats
from external enemies.17
(b) The advancement of ‘‘human security’’, based on the premise that
the person, not the state, should be the primary ‘‘object’’ of security
and that governments and international institutions should necessar-
ily function to promote the well-being of citizens, even if doing so
involves moving beyond the traditional barriers of territorial sover-
eignty.18 In the words of UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, ‘‘indi-
vidual sovereignty’’ must at times take precedence over state sover-
eignty and national security.19
(c) The reorientation of the norms of sovereignty towards ‘‘the responsi-
bility to protect’’, i.e. the assertion that, although state sovereignty
provides recognition and international rights, it also entails the state’s
responsibility to provide security within its borders to its own citi-
zens. Failing this, members of the international state community have
the right, indeed in certain circumstances the responsibility, to inter-
vene to protect the safety of populations in crisis, if necessary from
the operations of their own governments.20
(d) The establishment of individual responsibility for war crimes com-
mitted in intra-state conflicts, in particular holding national political
and military leaders responsible if they are judged to have fomented,
authorized or stood by during atrocities in intra-state conflict.
Much of the credit for capturing and focusing world attention on this
agenda is owing to a select set of norm entrepreneurs – the key voices
for change coming from NGOs, non-major power states and within inter-
national institutions. Primary among them at present is UN Secretary-
General Kofi Annan. Increasingly since 1999, his statements have come
to advocate the notions that ‘‘state sovereignty, in its most basic sense, is
being refined’’, that ‘‘states are now widely understood to be instruments
in the service of their peoples, and not vice versa’’.21 Annan’s position, of
course, is a delicate one, balancing the necessity of operating within the
constraints of his office and sustaining the support of the United Nations’
leading members against his entrepreneurial agenda for a reorientation
of institutional priorities.
Initial norm entrepreneurial leadership was provided outside the
United Nations, indeed in reaction to the United Nations’ failure and
with the aim of circumventing the United Nations’ stymied decision-
making. This leadership came from the foreign ministers and key political
individuals in the smaller and middle powers. Thus, individuals including
Gareth Evans (Australia) and Lloyd Axworthy (Canada), through the
force of their own personalities and the energies of their countries’ for-
eign services, in tandem with activist NGO communities, not only coined
and advanced the concepts noted above, but were instrumental in cre-
ating initiatives around conflict diamonds, the protection of civilians and
the plight of child soldiers.
It would be a mistake, however, not to acknowledge indications of
change within the United Nations itself. A key indicator is the Security
Council’s interpretation of what constitutes a threat to international
peace and security and, in turn, its authorization of the use of force in
peace operations. In numerical terms, there has been a remarkable in-
crease in the Council’s willingness to invoke Chapter VII.22 What is
more significant is the changing definition of what the Council counts as
a threat to international peace and security. As early as 1991, when first
confronting Saddam Hussein, the Council was prepared to regard the re-
pression of civilians as creating a threat to regional/international peace
and security.23 Since 1992 (Somalia), the protection of humanitarian per-
sonnel has become an almost standard consideration in invocations of
Chapter VII. And, with the Sierra Leone crisis of 1999, the Council ex-
plicitly included the protection of civilian populations under threat as a
critical component of its mandate for the forces authorized to intervene.
The Council has abandoned any geographical requirement that a situa-
tion constitute a threat to ‘‘international’’ security. Particularly when the
spectre of spillovers of refugee populations has loomed, the Council has
been quite quick to authorize a Chapter VII response to a regional con-
flict and, more recently, to intra-state situations as well. The protection of
refugee populations and the management of large internally displaced
populations have become central components of many of the past de-
cade’s peace operation missions.
66 BRIAN L. JOB
Thus, David Malone, one of the Council’s most astute observers, con-
cludes that the Council has ‘‘proved highly innovative in shaping the nor-
mative framework for international relations’’.24 Although not explicitly
characterizing its activities as advancing ‘‘human security’’ per se, the
Council clearly has taken substantial steps towards establishing the norm
of protection of civilians at risk in conflict situations. For example, de-
spite China’s extreme sensitivity to principles of state sovereignty, it has
facilitated UN-authorized humanitarian intervention in circumstances in-
volving failed states, e.g. Somalia and, more recently, the Democratic Re-
public of Congo.
Still, a caveat regarding the role of the United Nations is necessary.
Over the past decade and a half, the tendency of states, NGOs and asso-
ciated norm entrepreneurs has been to circumvent rather than to engage
the United Nations. These strategies have taken two forms: on the one
hand, multilateral actions to create new mechanisms that will institution-
alize new regimes around revised norms; and, on the other hand, actions
by states or coalitions of states to use force without first seeking the
authorization of the Security Council. The first strategy is typified by the
process, spearheaded by the Canadian government in coordination with
key NGOs, to establish the Ottawa Convention on the banning of anti-
personnel landmines,25 as well as the subsequent move to create the In-
ternational Criminal Court. The second strategy is typified by US actions
concerning Kosovo and Iraq. It is ironic to note that both Kosovo and,
in retrospect, Iraq have been justified as necessary responses to ‘‘human
security’’ crises in contexts where the United Nations was seen to be
paralysed.
In sum, there is evidence to support the argument that fundamen-
tal change has been set in motion, in particular that ‘‘the dominant
moral discourse about humanitarian action has changed’’. However, the
tensions remain, and the issues are not settled. Thus, although one can
conclude that a ‘‘humanitarian impulse’’ certainly guides the Security
Council’s actions on matters of peace and security, this cannot be charac-
terized as a ‘‘humanitarian imperative’’.26 Indeed, in Adam Roberts’
words, ‘‘all attempts to reach an agreed doctrine favoring humanitarian
intervention have failed’’.27
The United States: Leading state and norm entrepreneur

The structural logic of US systemic dominance
The extent to which the United States now holds its place as the domi-
nant global power requires no rehearsal. For many analysts, this struc-
tural fact is sufficient to explain the US attitude towards cooperation with

other states and in international organizations such as the United Na-
tions. As Ikenberry puts it, ‘‘[t]he simplest explanation for the new uni-
lateralism is that the United States has grown in power during the 1990s,
thereby reducing its incentives to operate within a multilateral order’’.28
Today, one also finds this structural realist logic combined with the argu-
ments of US historical exceptionalism and the nationalist imperatives of
US domestic politics in times of crisis, both reinforcing a ‘‘go it alone’’ at-
titude, and at times a triumphalist attitude, towards international affairs.29
How should one interpret the key events that have placed the United
States in this position of hegemonic dominance? The end of the Cold
War in 1989 was a ‘‘great event’’, a systemic transformation in the sense
that Gilpin, Waltz and others envisage a reordering of a dimension that
alters prior rationales and patterns of international interaction. Two
years later in 1991, with the United States’ rapid rejection of Saddam
Hussein’s takeover of Kuwait, the supremacy of US military power was
made very apparent, demonstrating that Washington requires no allies
to project its military agenda effectively anywhere in the globe when it
so chooses.
The events of 2001, however, were of a different order and have had
profoundly different impacts. First, the attack on the US homeland
caused a shift in the national psyche, i.e. an ideational transformation.
Of equal import, the attacks marked a change in the structural order of
the international system as well. They brought home the realization that
the threats presented by non-state, terrorist actors could not be ad-
dressed through traditional patterns of inter-state security relations. In
effect, when confronted by actors who cannot be constrained through
‘‘normal’’ patterns of relations, the logic of the ‘‘institutional bargain’’ to
attain security by and for states breaks down. In particular, the capacities
of the lead or leading states in the system no longer provide the advan-
tages and leverage necessary for the logic of structural realist arguments
to apply.
Rather than establishing any new pattern in the international order,
the Iraq war of 2003 instead should be viewed as reinforcing trends and
highlighting paradoxes set in motion over the previous half-decade. The
Iraq war was not a surprise; Saddam Hussein’s time in power was des-
tined to be short after President G. W. Bush assumed office. Nor was the
immediate outcome unexpected.
The election of George W. Bush in 2000 and the events and aftermath
of 9/11 are both, in retrospect, more significant benchmarks. The former
brought to power in Washington a regime motivated by an ideological
agenda, an exceptionalist mentality and a conviction that security is
achieved and sustained through military superiority. The latter event
68 BRIAN L. JOB
traumatized the American people, transformed their view of a world that

they had previously largely ignored and, in turn, facilitated their support
for a national security agenda couched in terms of a ‘‘war on terrorism’’.
It is these ideational forces that are central to understanding the United
States’ increasingly controversial contesting of international norms.
The United States as norm entrepreneur
The contemporary attitude of the United States concerning the achieve-

ment of its own security and the utility of multilateral cooperation in
attaining it is not preordained by its position of global dominance. It is
instead the reflection of the role of its élite political leadership in at-
tempting to reshape the global security architecture according to norms
and principles congenial to its world view. This is not a new phenome-
non, either in the historical past – one need only recall Woodrow Wilson
or Franklin Roosevelt – or in the past decade. Thus, the Bush Sr admin-
istration was motivated by an effort, albeit frustrated, to establish ‘‘a new
world order’’, one involving leadership in international institutions, par-
ticularly through the United Nations. Bill Clinton, although attempting
to distinguish himself from this predecessor by limiting deployment of
US forces abroad, was in turn characterized as advancing ‘‘assertive
multilateralism’’.30
These administrations, like their predecessors since World War II, to a
greater or lesser extent all articulated a US role of leadership premised
on supporting the central multilateral economic and social institutions of
the system, in effect providing public goods, exercising self-restraint and
accepting short-term losses in anticipation of the longer-term benefits
derived from cooperation. Established norms of sovereignty and a collec-
tive response to threats to international peace and security were thus sus-
tained for almost half a century.
This did not mean that the United States was not a self-interested
player, or for that matter not a dominant actor, in the international sys-
tem. However, the bottom line was that Washington, although articulat-
ing its exceptionalism especially concerning subordination of its national
jurisdiction to international institutions, remained in principle committed
to principles of multilateralism (e.g. diffuse reciprocity). What is unique
about the current US leadership is its apparent disavowal of these prin-
ciples and its efforts to redesign an international systemic order, centred
on itself, that operates according to different norms. In this sense, George
W. Bush and influential administration figures such as Rumsfeld, Wolfo-
witz and Cheney need to be recognized as norm entrepreneurs. The ten-
sions occasioned by this administration’s actions – most notably its deci-
sion to depose Saddam Hussein without seeking the legitimation of the

UN Security Council, but including its record of withdrawal from, veto-
ing, ignoring and failing to support international agreements – are symp-
toms of the campaign by norm entrepreneurs dedicated to bringing about
change.
Most frequently the United States is characterized as a unilateralist,
opposed in principle to operating through multilateral channels. This
line of argument is misconstrued. It fails to take into account the sophis-
tication of the strategy of change orchestrated by the Bush team. What is
overlooked in the discussion of US unilateralism, and has been high-
lighted by the Iraq war, is the effective employment of multilateral strat-
egies by the United States to further its goals. The United States’ uni-
lateralism is seen through its agenda-setting capacity. Its multilateral
capacities are demonstrated through its effective use of persuasion,
manipulation or coercion of other states and institutions in order to ac-
complish its goals.
In this sense, the United States has proved to be an adept and effective
multilateral player. Whereas it seeks to avoid any multilateral institution
that could constrain its behaviour – the Iraq war providing convincing
evidence that Washington will not allow itself to be hindered by any in-
stitution with a consensus decision-making requirement (including the
North Atlantic Treaty Organization) – the United States seeks to orches-
trate and operate with ad hoc coalitions of like-minded states. As Rums-
feld has declared at home and admonished US allies abroad (including
NATO partners), ‘‘The mission [read, as defined by the United States]
must determine the coalition, and the coalition must not determine the
mission.’’31
Since 9/11, the United States has in fact expanded both its bilateral and
its multilateral activities. One need only point to the ‘‘coalitions of the
willing’’ mobilized for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, the numbers of
states on side for the missile defence programme, or the increasing num-
bers ready to participate in the Proliferation Security Initiative.
Where matters come to a head is over the distinction between two con-
trasting normative premises, those of ad hoc multilateralism and those of
institutionalized multilateralism. The former, as espoused by the Bush
administration, envisages the formation and employment of multilateral
institutions simply as strategies to advance the immediate needs of the
United States (and any other states that happen to have similar interests)
on an ad hoc basis. The norms involved ‘‘rely on the sovereign account-
ability of states instead of strategies to limit sovereignty’’. There is a pref-
erence for ‘‘functional institutions that produce concrete results instead
of symbolic measures that might rally more support for an ideal’’. The
70 BRIAN L. JOB
latter are viewed as ‘‘indulgences’’ that cannot be afforded.32 In essence,

these norms hearken back to a structural realist, rationalist, Westphalian
order, in sharp contrast to the norms and institutional forms of multilat-
eralism being advanced by others in the contemporary international
context.33
An uncertain future
The United States: Prospects for change and continuity
‘‘When it comes to our security . . . we really don’t need anybody’s permission.’’

(George W. Bush)
‘‘We’re so multilateral it keeps me up twenty-four hours a day checking on every-
body.’’ (Colin Powell)34
It is too early to assess the success of the norm entrepreneurship of the

contemporary US administration. There are sharp divisions in the United
States even within the high levels of the bureaucracy and the political
élite. Joseph Nye, among others, has referred to
the administration [being] deeply divided between those who want to escape the
constraints of the post-1945 institutional framework that the United States helped
to build and those who believe the US goals are better achieved by working with-
in the framework. The neoconservative ‘‘Wilsonians to the right’’ and the ‘‘Jack-
son unilateralists’’ . . . are pitted against the more multilateral and cautious tradi-
tional realists.35
Already observers are suggesting that the hard lessons that the United
States is learning in Afghanistan and Iraq are tempering its harsher rhet-
oric and introducing nuance into its attempts to orchestrate effective mul-
tilateral support for its policies. That being said, it would be optimistic to
assume that any subsequent administration in Washington is going to
dramatically alter key premises of the United States’ post-9/11 approach
to advancing its national security agenda. For the foreseeable future, the
‘‘war on terrorism’’ will remain the central pillar of US foreign policy, the
asserted right of pre-emptive attack against perceived imminent threats
will not be revoked, and the United States will not restrict the pursuit of
its interests by participating in any multilateral security forum requiring
decision-making by consensus.
The challenges to international norms of sovereignty and multilateral-
ism may diminish in the short term, but they will not disappear.
The larger picture and the longer term: A global public goods
dilemma36
The prosecution of the Iraq war and the subsequent US manoeuvring to

hand on post-conflict responsibilities and costs call into question the via-
bility of the framework of global and regional multilateral institutions.
However, the United States is not alone in this regard. One can cite an
increasing tendency for states (a) to define their commitments to interna-
tional regimes and institutions on the basis of their short-term national
interest priorities, (b) to abandon institutional frameworks when they do
not produce results useful to them, and (c) to avoid establishing any new
multilateral institutions, favouring instead short-term, single-purpose co-
alitions of interested states. Statements such as the following (by the
Australian foreign minister) are illustrative:
Some multilateral institutions will remain important for our interests. But increas-
ingly multilateralism is a synonym for an ineffective and unfocused policy involv-
ing internationalism of the lowest common denominator. Multilateral institutions
need to become more results oriented if they are to serve the interests of the in-
ternational community. . . . We are prepared to join coalitions of the willing that
can bring focus and purpose to address the urgent security and other challenges
we face.37
Such attitudes obscure a larger and more significant matter, namely that
the provision of international institutions constitutes a set of public goods
– public goods that are critical to the sustained stability of the interna-
tional and regional security orders. Policies of ‘‘instrumental multilateral-
ism’’, if practised by all states or by the most influential states, will inevi-
tably erode these core foundations. So too will policies of ‘‘a la carte
multilateralism’’, i.e. the arbitrary picking and choosing among interna-
tional regimes or among the components of international regimes to suit
immediate national interests.
The historical record suggests that such policies are short-sighted and
ultimately place greater burdens on the international community. The
frameworks of international and regional norms and institutions required
to ensure peace and stability are delicate mechanisms. They can and
should evolve as new circumstances dictate, and the present is indeed a
moment when important changes are warranted. However, creating in-
ternational and regional security architectures is an onerous task. In
order to assure the longer-term provision of these essential international
public goods, the major power must itself exercise positive leadership and
be willing to absorb disproportionate costs of institution-building and
maintenance. Whether or not, and how, this leadership will be taken up
72 BRIAN L. JOB
remains an unanswered question in the ongoing aftermath of the Iraq

war.
Notes
I acknowledge the support for research and writing of the Social Science and Humanities
Research Council of Canada and the Security and Defence Forum programme of the Centre
of International Relations, University of British Columbia. Erin Williams and Ana-Marie
Blanaru, Department of Political Science, UBC, provided excellent research assistance; Kal
Holsti helped to refine key arguments. The views expressed are mine alone.
1. Thus, in terms of a theoretical point of view, this chapter is self-consciously written from
what international relations theorists have labelled a constructivist perspective, whose
key insight is captured in the title of Alexander Wendt’s 1992 article ‘‘ ‘Anarchy Is
What States Make of It’: The Social Construction of Power Politics’’, International Or-
ganization, Vol. 46 (1992), pp. 391–426.
2. As Ikenberry makes clear, there are more than two perspectives on the formation and
operation of international institutions among students of international relations. Fur-
thermore, along the lines of his own arguments, when tackling the emergence of specific
institutions at a particular historical juncture, a synthesis of elements of different proto-
typical models provides the most satisfactory explanation. See G. John Ikenberry, After
Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after Major Wars
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001).
3. G. John Ikenberry, ‘‘State Power and the Institutional Bargain: America’s Ambivalent
Economic and Security Multilateralism’’, in Rosemary Foot, S. Neil MacFarlane and
Michael Mastanduno, eds, US Hegemony and International Organizations (Oxford: Ox-
ford University Press, 2003), pp. 49–72, at p. 50.
4. In his study of the formation of international institutional orders, Kalvei Holsti focuses
more on the role of the ‘‘concert’’ of major powers and less on the determinative influ-
ence of a single major power. See Kal Holsti, Taming the Sovereigns: Institutional
Change in International Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).
5. See Ikenberry, After Victory.
6. See Thomas Biersteker and Cynthia Weber, ‘‘The Social Construction of State Sover-
eignty’’, in Thomas Biersteker and Cynthia Weber, eds, State Sovereignty as Social
Construct (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 1–22; and Christian
Reus-Smit, ‘‘The Constitutional Structure of International Society and the Nature of
Fundamental Institutions’’, International Organization, Vol. 51 (1997), pp. 555–590.
7. These two approaches to thinking about international institutions also embody distinc-
tive interpretations of multilateralism. On the one hand, multilateralism can refer to the
‘‘coordination of relations’’ among two or more states, varying according to the level
and extent of coordination. Alternately, multilateralism can be viewed as involving ad-
herence to and advancement of certain norms – procedural norms, normative principles
of conduct and expectations of longer-term cooperation (diffuse reciprocity). On the
former, see John Ikenberry, ‘‘Is American Multilateralism in Decline?’’, Perspectives
on Politics, Vol. 1 (2003), pp. 534–550; for the latter, see John Ruggie, ‘‘Multilateralism:
The Anatomy of an Institution’’, in John Ruggie, ed., Multilateralism Matters: The
Theory and Praxis of an Institutional Form (New York: Columbia University, 1993),
pp. 3–48; and Brian L. Job, ‘‘Matters of Multilateralism: Implications for Regional
Conflict Management’’, in David Lake and Patrick Morgan, eds, Regional Orders:
Building Security in a New World (University Park, PA: Penn State University Press,
1997), pp. 165–191.
8. Kal Holsti, Peace and War: Armed Conflicts and International Order, 1648–1989 (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991).
9. Thus, for Kenneth Waltz, the logic of the post–Cold War power distribution dictated
that Japan and Germany should aspire to become nuclear powers. See ‘‘The Emerging
Structure of International Politics’’, International Security, Vol. 18 (1993), pp. 44–79.
10. See Mathew Evangelista, Unarmed Forces: The Transnational Movement to End the
Cold War (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1999).
11. Successful norm entrepreneurship also requires opportunistic timing and coordinated
strategizing. The ‘‘cycle’’ of norm change is discussed in detail in Martha Finnemore
and Kathryn Sikkink, ‘‘International Norm Dynamics and Political Change’’, Interna-
tional Organization, Vol. 52 (1998), pp. 887–917; Margaret Keck and Kathryn Sikkink,
‘‘Transnational Advocacy Networks in International Politics: Introduction’’, in Activists
beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in International Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell Uni-
versity Press, 1998).
12. See Inis Claude, Swords into Plowshares (New York: Random House, 1983).
13. Monty G. Marshall and Robert Ted Gurr, ‘‘Peace and Conflict 2003: A Global Survey
of Armed Conflicts, Self-Determination Movements, and Democracy’’, College Park,
MD: CICDM, University of Maryland, 2003.
14. Indeed, the Council had become largely moribund in this regard, having not authorized
a single mission between 1978 and 1988, in effect stymied by major power interests in
Afghanistan, southern Africa, Southeast Asia, and so on.
15. See Brian L. Job, ‘‘The UN, Regional Organizations, and Regional Conflict: Is There a
Viable Role for the UN?’’, in Richard Price and Mark Zacher, eds, The United Nations
and Global Security (New York: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2004).
16. See Fen Hampson, Madness in the Multitude: Human Security and World Disorder (Don
Mills: Oxford University Press Canada, 2002).
17. A key early statement is David Baldwin, ‘‘The Concept of Security’’, Review of Interna-
tional Studies, Vol. 23 (1997), pp. 3–26.
18. William T. Tow and Russell Trood, ‘‘Linkages between Traditional Security and Hu-
man Security’’, in William T. Tow, Ramesh Thakur and In-Taek Hyun, eds, Asia’s
Emerging Regional Order: Reconciling Traditional and Human Security (Tokyo: United
Nations University Press, 2000), pp. 13–32.
19. Kofi A. Annan, ‘‘Two Concepts of Sovereignty’’, The Economist, 18 September 1999.
20. The ‘‘responsibility to protect’’ was coined by Francis Deng, referring initially to the
responding to the plight of refugee populations. However, it is the Responsibility to
Protect report by the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty
(Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, December 2001) – a norm entre-
preneurship initiative of the Canadian government, the UN Secretary-General, several
large foundations and like-minded notable persons – that has placed this concept at the
heart of contemporary discourse on international security. The report has had a signifi-
cant impact; notably, the 2004 UN High-level Panel Report adopts both the language
and the logic of the ‘‘responsibility to protect’’.
21. Annan, ‘‘Two Concepts of Sovereignty’’.
22. Wallensteen and Johansson provide a detailed charting of this dramatic increase in the
Council’s invocation of Chapter VII, in their ‘‘Security Council Decisions in Perspec-
tive’’, in David Malone, ed., The UN Security Council: From the Cold War to the 21st
Century (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2004), pp. 17–33. They note (p. 19): ‘‘Ninety-
three per cent of all Chapter VII resolutions passed from 1946 to 2002 have been
adopted since the end of the Cold War.’’
74 BRIAN L. JOB
23. See Joanna Weschler, ‘‘Human Rights’’, in Malone, ed., The UN Security Council,
pp. 55–68, at p. 57.
24. See Malone, ed., The UN Security Council, p. 9.
25. Maxwell A. Cameron, Robert J. Lawson and Brian W. Tomlin, eds, To Walk without
Fear: The Global Movement to Ban Landmines (Toronto: Oxford University Press,
1998).
26. See Thomas G. Weiss, ‘‘The Humanitarian Impulse’’, in Malone, ed., The UN Security
Council, specifically p. 46, and in general regarding this conclusion.
27. Adam Roberts, ‘‘The Use of Force’’, in Malone, ed., The UN Security Council, pp. 133–
152, at p. 146. As concerns the Responsibility to Protect report, Roberts characterizes it
as ‘‘an ingenious attempt at a reformulation of the question of humanitarian interven-
tion, [with] so far little sign of states explicitly accepting such a responsibility’’.
28. Ikenberry, ‘‘Is American Multilateralism in Decline?’’, p. 537.
29. For an excellent treatment of these arguments, especially the notion of US exceptional-
ism, see Edward C. Luck, ‘‘American Exceptionalism and International Organization:
Lessons from the 1990s’’, in Foot, MacFarlane and Mastanduno, eds, US Hegemony
and International Organizations, pp. 25–48.
30. Ibid., p. 26, footnote 2.
31. ‘‘Secretary Rumsfeld Speaks on ‘21st Century Transformation’ of U.S. Armed Forces
(transcript of remarks and question and answer period)’’. Remarks as Delivered by Sec-
retary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, National Defense University, Fort McNair, Wash-
ington, D.C., Thursday, January 31, 2002; hhttp://www.defenselink.mil/speeches/2002/
s20020131-secdef.htmli (accessed 25 January 2006).
32. Philip Zelikow, ‘‘The Transformation of National Security’’, The National Interest, Vol.
71 (2003), pp. 17–28.
33. The argument that the United States is a contemporary norm entrepreneur could be
challenged. First, one could point out that ‘‘international norms’’ must espouse univer-
sal content and universal applicability. That is, they must be seen by their advocates as
being inclusive and reciprocal, neither enabling nor excluding only themselves. One
could question whether, in this sense, the Bush administration seeks to advance norms
or simply to justify specific self-interested activities. However, I argue that the United
States sees itself and is seen by others as a norm entrepreneur, and that the signs are
becoming more apparent as the second George W. Bush term unfolds. This does not im-
ply that either consistency or universality is involved. One sees a combination of selec-
tive reliance upon very traditional interpretations of sovereignty and self-help with the
advancement of principles of democratic empowerment and particularistic interpreta-
tions of ‘‘freedom’’. (I am indebted to Kal Holsti for pointing out the first argument.)
34. Bush’s comment is from Dan Balz, ‘‘President Puts Onus back on Iraqi Leader’’, Wash-
ington Post, 7 March 2003, cited in Ikenberry, ‘‘Is American Multilateralism in De-
cline?’’. Colin Powell’s statement is from ‘‘Remarks at Business Event’’, Shanghai,
People’s Republic of China, 18 October 2001, hhttp://www.state.gov/secretary/former/
powell/remarks/2001/5441.htmi (accessed 25 January 2006).
35. Joseph Nye, ‘‘US Power and Strategy after Iraq’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 82 (2003),
pp. 60–73, at p. 63.
36. These remarks are expanded upon in Job, ‘‘The Challenges of International Relations
and International Regimes: Emerging Parameters of a New Regional Paradigm’’, 17th
Asia Pacific Roundtable, Kuala Lumpur, 6–9 August 2003.
37. Alexander Downer, ‘‘Security in an Unstable World’’, speech to the Australian Na-
tional Press Club, 26 June 2003.
5
The world says no: The global
movement against war in Iraq
David Cortright
On 15 February 2003, in hundreds of cities across the world, an estimated

10 million people demonstrated against the looming US-led invasion of
Iraq. It was the largest-scale single day of anti-war protest in human
history. More than 1 million people jammed the centre of London in
one of the largest demonstrations ever held in that city. More than 1 mil-
lion marched in Rome, and huge throngs paraded in Barcelona, Berlin,
Madrid, Paris, Sydney and dozens of other cities. An estimated 400,000
braved bitter cold in New York.1 The people of the globe spoke out
as never before in one unified voice against the planned attack against
Iraq. ‘‘The world says no to war’’ was the slogan and the reality.
The 15 February demonstrations were the high point of a vast and un-
precedented mobilization of public opposition to war. The Iraq campaign
‘‘was the largest antiwar movement that has ever taken place’’, according
to Barbara Epstein.2 In the course of just a few months, the anti-war
movement reached levels of mobilization that, during the Viet Nam era,
took years to develop. The Iraq movement was more international in
character than any previous anti-war movement. Opposition to war
emerged not just in the United States but literally all over the world, as
action campaigns were coordinated internationally and demonstrators
understood themselves to be part of a truly global struggle.3 The move-
ment represented a convergence of anti-war and global justice efforts
into a common campaign against military-corporate domination.4 It
was an expression of what Stephen Gill has called ‘‘new . . . forms of
global political agency’’.5 But the movement also emerged from more
75
76 DAVID CORTRIGHT
traditional peace and justice networks and relied extensively on the

knowledge and resources of organizations and individuals with previous
experience in anti-war action. It engaged religious communities, trade
unionists, students, feminists, environmentalists, academics, business ex-
ecutives, artists, musicians and many more. The movement was built
largely through the Internet, which served as the primary tool for devel-
oping and communicating strategies and actions, and which accounted for
the movement’s extraordinary capacity for organizing huge numbers of
people at short notice with limited resources. The movement effectively
utilized mass media communications. The war in Iraq and the inter-
national opposition to it were the dominant news story throughout the
world for months, and anti-war activists found themselves in the unaccus-
tomed position of being the centre of media attention. For the first time
in history, observed writer Rebecca Solnit, the peace movement was por-
trayed in the media as ‘‘diverse, legitimate and representative’’, which
was a ‘‘watershed victory’’ for the movement’s representation and long-
term prospects.6
A few days after the 15 February demonstrations, a New York Times
reporter conferred ‘‘superpower’’ status on the anti-war movement. The
huge anti-war demonstrations were indications, wrote Patrick Tyler, of
‘‘two super powers on the planet: the United States and world public
opinion’’. The White House faced a ‘‘tenacious new adversary’’ which
was generating massive opposition to the administration’s war policy and
had left the world’s greatest power virtually alone in the international
community.7 Anti-war commentators quickly adopted the phrase and
proclaimed their movement ‘‘the other superpower’’. Jonathan Schell
wrote in The Nation of the movement’s ‘‘immense power’’ in winning
the hearts and wills of the majority of the world’s people.8 Even UN
Secretary-General Kofi Annan used the phrase in referring to anti-war
opinion.9 A new form of global social movement had emerged, an un-
precedented expression of collective consciousness and action bound
together through the World Wide Web.10 Although the movement was
unable to stop the march to war, and did not prevent the re-election of
pro-war administrations a year and a half later in the United States and
Australia, it nonetheless exerted considerable international influence.
In this chapter, I comment upon the Iraq anti-war movement and its
extraordinary development in the months leading up to the March 2003
attack on Iraq. I write as an active participant, one who was intimately
involved in many of the activities described here. Mine is hardly a dis-
interested view, although I strive to uphold scholarly standards. I provide
an overview of several different elements of the movement, giving special
attention to several key dimensions – the role of Internet-based organiz-
ing, the movement’s international dimensions, and its communications
THE GLOBAL MOVEMENT AGAINST WAR IN IRAQ 77
and message-framing strategies. I conclude with some reflections on the

movement’s overall impact.
Uniting for peace

In the United States, the anti-war movement was led by two major coali-
tions, United for Peace and Justice (UFPJ) and Win Without War. Both
coalitions emerged in the late fall of 2002. UFPJ was quintessentially a
grassroots activist coalition and its principal action strategy was to orga-
nize protest demonstrations. The coalition’s first action was a call for na-
tionally coordinated local actions on 10 December, which was Human
Rights Day. More than 130 events took place that day all over the United
States, generating substantial local and regional press coverage for the
growing anti-war movement. United for Peace and Justice was the princi-
pal sponsor of the 15 February demonstration in New York, when an es-
timated 400,000 gathered on the city’s east side.11 UFPJ continued to or-
ganize protest actions until and after the war began. One of the biggest
actions came in New York on 22 March. The demonstration had been an-
nounced a couple of weeks before but came a few days after the war be-
gan. The estimated crowd of 300,000 rivalled the turnout on 15 February.
One of the principal UFPJ organizers, Leslie Cagan, recalled the thinking
of many New Yorkers, like herself, who bristled at the Bush adminis-
tration’s manipulation of the city’s suffering: ‘‘For those of us who lived
through 9/11, there was a sense that we never wanted to see that kind of
horror visited on other people, whether by a small group of terrorists or
by the state terrorism of a military invasion.’’12
The Win Without War coalition was formed in parallel with United for
Peace and Justice as a more moderate, mainstream committee of national
organizations. Among the participating groups were the Internet giant
MoveOn, Working Assets (a telecommunications company with hun-
dreds of thousands of subscribers), True Majority (an Internet-based
activist network created by ice cream entrepreneur Ben Cohen), the Na-
tional Council of Churches, Sojourners, the United Methodist Church,
Physicians for Social Responsibility, the Sierra Club, the National Orga-
nization for Women, and the National Association for the Advancement
of Colored People. The coalition believed that the political message of
the activist movement should emphasize alternative means of containing
and disarming Saddam Hussein without war. They also agreed on the
pressing need for an effective public relations and communications cam-
paign to reach mainstream audiences.
Virtual organizing became the métier of the Win Without War coali-
tion, as it mobilized the vast membership networks of its Internet-based
78 DAVID CORTRIGHT
groups and constituency organizations for coordinated lobbying and

action campaigns. Its most ambitious effort was the ‘‘virtual march’’ on
Washington on 26 February 2003. Citizens all over the United States
phoned, faxed or e-mailed their elected representatives to oppose the
march to war. All across Capitol Hill on 26 February, the phones and
fax machines were jammed. Win Without War national director Tom An-
drews estimated that more than 1 million calls, faxes and e-mail messages
were sent. It was the largest one-day lobbying event in US political his-
tory. In the final weeks before the invasion, Win Without War launched
an international petition to the UN Security Council that was signed by
more than 1 million people in a matter of days. On the weekend of 15–
16 March, the coalition worked with MoveOn to sponsor candlelight
vigils around the world. More than 6,000 vigils took place in more than
100 countries that weekend. Once again, the world said no to war, this time
in a prayerful plea at the last hour before the onset of military hostilities.
The role of MoveOn
Much of the success of Win Without War and the anti-war movement in
the United States can be ascribed to the powerful impact of Internet or-
ganizing and to the role of MoveOn specifically. It was during the Iraq
anti-war movement that the full range of possibilities for utilizing the In-
ternet for social change organizing became evident. The global justice
movement used the Internet effectively as a means of communication, co-
ordination and education among decentralized networks of organizers
around the world. To these functions, anti-war activists added new
dimensions of Internet mobilization: the development of organized
‘‘membership’’ networks, the creation of ‘‘meeting tools’’ to facilitate co-
ordinated local actions, and on-line fundraising. The result was an un-
precedented capacity to raise consciousness and mobilize political action.
MoveOn was the pioneer and leading force in this Internet revolution.
The group was formed in 1998 to stop the impeachment of Bill Clinton. It
was the lead group within Win Without War and served as the backbone
of the movement’s most important organizing and communication efforts.
In the six months leading up to the outbreak of war in March 2003,
MoveOn’s on-line membership, US and international, grew from 700,000
to approximately 2,000,000. Other electronically based networks also ex-
perienced extraordinary growth and activity during this period. True Ma-
jority was founded in June 2002 and grew rapidly as the anti-war move-
ment emerged, reaching 100,000 members by the end of 2002 and 500,000
a year later.
When Internet organizing began, some sceptics questioned the value of
a tool that kept activists glued to their computer screens. The very ease
with which one could click and send off a message, sometimes to hun-
dreds of recipients, seemed to cheapen the value of the effort. MoveOn
and the other Internet-based activist groups recognized these limitations
early on and devised methods of mobilization that significantly broad-
ened the impact of e-mail activism. One important innovation was the
use of the Internet to organize coordinated local meetings. Activists were
encouraged to leave their computer screens and go out to meetings where
they connected with other activists in their communities. MoveOn devel-
oped a meeting tool that organizer Eli Pariser termed ‘‘action in a box’’.
Action campaigns were programmed so that respondents could be led
easily through a series of prompts offering various venues and functions
for action. An e-mail message from MoveOn would contain the call to
action and, by clicking the appropriate icons, the respondent could be
connected to other activists and could volunteer for various tasks, rang-
ing from attending a meeting and sending an e-mail to Congress, to more
ambitious duties such as coordinating a meeting, speaking in public and
contributing funds. By segmenting lists according to location and interest,
Internet organizers could use their membership base to sponsor highly
particularized forms of action. Equally important in translating Internet
communications into political power were the development and use of
on-line fundraising. Just as on-line marketing has become increasingly
significant in the commercial economy, Internet-based fundraising has
rapidly become a vital source of income for social movements, non-profit
groups and political campaigns.
Other organizations with more traditional membership bases also de-
veloped e-mail networks during the anti-war movement. The religious-
based organization Sojourners saw its newly created Sojo list expand
from 20,000 in the summer of 2002 to approximately 70,000 in March
2003. Peace Action, The Council for a Livable World and many other or-
ganizations also developed e-mail listservs and experienced growth in
electronic membership. All of these groups used the Internet as a mech-
anism for political communication and fundraising. The use of electronic
organizing and the overall growth of anti-war activism led to membership
increases in most of the established peace organizations. Women’s Action
for New Directions, Peace Action and Physicians for Social Responsibil-
ity all reported 20 per cent increases in membership during the anti-war
campaign.13 The movement against war in Iraq thus became an opportu-
nity for traditional peace groups to grow organizationally and financially.
The world speaks
Of the many extraordinary features of the anti-war movement, none was

more remarkable than its international dimension. In nearly every coun-
80 DAVID CORTRIGHT
try, opinion polls showed solid and sometimes overwhelming majorities

against US-led military action in Iraq. In some countries, people consid-
ered George W. Bush more of a threat than Saddam Hussein to interna-
tional security.14 In dozens of countries national anti-war coalitions were
created, encompassing a wide range of movements and organizations.
The United Kingdom had the Stop the War Coalition, Italy Fermiamo la
Guerra all’Iraq, Germany Netzwerk Friedenskooperative, Spain No al la
Guerra. All the national coalitions set up websites that were linked to
each other. Many adopted the same slogan and graphic symbol, a missile
crossed out with the words ‘‘stop the war’’.15
The protests of 15 February 2003 were literally a global phenomenon,
with reports of anti-war action that weekend in more than 600 cities. In
London, the crowd set off from two separate assembly sites, pouring into
and filling much of Hyde Park. More than 1 million people overflowed
the city’s centre.16 Tens of thousands also marched in Glasgow, Dublin
and Belfast. Rivalling the demonstration in London was a massive pro-
test of perhaps 1 million people in Rome. The historic heart of the city,
between the Coliseum and Piazza San Giovanni, was packed for hours
by a slow-moving procession of protesters. Half a million people as-
sembled in Madrid, and the crowd in Barcelona was estimated at 1 mil-
lion. Smaller protests occurred in Valencia, Seville, Los Palmas and
Cadiz. Half a million marched in Berlin, and crowds of 100,000 or more
gathered in Brussels, Paris and Athens, with smaller protests in more
than 100 other European cities. Over 100,000 demonstrated in Montreal,
Toronto, Vancouver and other Canadian cities. Tens of thousands turned
out in Mexico City, Rio de Janeiro, Montevideo and Buenos Aires. Sev-
eral hundred thousand gathered in Sidney and Melbourne. In New Zea-
land, protests took place in Auckland, Wellington and more than a dozen
other cities. Thousands marched in Tokyo, Seoul, Bangkok, Manila,
Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta (the week before), Lahore, New Delhi, Calcutta
and other Asian cities. Approximately 20,000 people marched in Johan-
nesburg, Cape Town and Durban. In Damascus, some 200,000 demon-
strated at the People’s Assembly. Tens of thousands rallied in Beirut
and Amman. Several thousand people, Jews and Palestinians together,
marched in Tel Aviv. A few dozen brave souls even demonstrated in
Antarctica.
More important than the number and extent of these demonstrations
was their political impact. Opposition to war was especially broad in
those countries where the government supported the US-led war effort
(see Figure 5.1). In the United Kingdom, Spain and Italy, citizens said
no while their political leaders were saying yes. In Spain and Italy, opin-
ion polls showed more than 80 per cent of the public opposed to partici-
pating in the US-led war. In Poland, although there was little organized
protest, over 70 per cent opposed participation in the war.
Figure 5.1 International anti-war opinion.

Source: Responses are from polling conducted by the Pew Research Center for
the People & the Press, 10–17 March 2003. The Pew Global Attitudes Project,
‘‘America’s Image Further Erodes, Europeans Want Weaker Ties: But Post-war
Iraq Will Be Better Off, Most Say’’, 18 March 2003, hhttp://www.people-press.
orgi (accessed 13 November 2003).
Notes: Respondents in the United Kingdom, Italy, Spain and Poland were asked,
‘‘Would you favor or oppose [survey country] joining the U.S. and other allies in
military action in Iraq to end Saddam Hussein’s rule?’’ In the United States, the
question posed was, ‘‘Would you favor or oppose taking military action in Iraq to
end Saddam Hussein’s rule?’’ In Germany and Turkey, respondents were asked,
‘‘Would you favor or oppose the U.S. and other allies taking military action in
Iraq to end Saddam Hussein’s rule?’’
Just as the overall anti-war movement became internationalized to

an unprecedented extent, so did the voice of religious opposition to war.
Never before in history did so many religious leaders and organizations
from around the world speak so forcefully against war. The most im-
portant voice was that of the Vatican, which repeatedly condemned the
proposed invasion of Iraq and pleaded with world leaders to pursue dip-
lomatic rather than military solutions. ‘‘War is always a defeat for hu-
manity,’’ Pope John Paul II told assembled diplomats during his New
Year address in January. ‘‘War cannot be decided upon,’’ he declared,
‘‘except as the very last option.’’17 As the war began in March, the Pope
urged people to continue standing against war. ‘‘It is ever more urgent to
proclaim that only peace is the road to follow to construct a more just
and united society.’’18 National conferences of Catholic bishops in North
America, Europe, Asia and Africa joined the Vatican in issuing state-
ments against war. The deliberative bodies of many other religious com-
munities around the world joined in this nearly universal faith-based out-
cry against war.
82 DAVID CORTRIGHT
In Germany, anti-war sentiment played a decisive role in swaying the

outcome of national elections. Social Democratic Chancellor Gerhard
Schröder won a narrow come-from-behind victory in the September 2002
elections by emphasizing his opposition to war in Iraq. For months,
Schröder had lagged behind in the polls because of widespread misgiv-
ings about his economic policies. As public alarm about the war spread,
Schröder cobbled together a successful electoral strategy by consciously
exploiting voters’ anti-war sentiments and sharpening his criticism of
US policy. One international news report quipped, ‘‘Schröder beats
Bush in German election’’.19 The vote not only kept a strongly anti-war
Schröder in office, but also elevated the Green Party to new heights,
further strengthening the position of Foreign Minister and Green Party
leader Joschka Fischer. The election results reinforced international op-
position to war because of Germany’s position on the UN Security Coun-
cil, and enhanced the influence of environmental and peace forces in
German domestic politics.
Perhaps the most remarkable manifestation of anti-war sentiment
occurred in Turkey, where a popularly elected parliament refused the
Bush administration’s request to use the country as a base and transit
corridor for US invasion forces. The Washington Post called Turkey’s re-
jection ‘‘a stunning setback’’ to the Bush administration’s war plans.20
Ankara’s decision went against a tradition of decades of close military co-
operation between Turkey and the United States. Turkish leaders also
turned aside a huge package of financial inducements offered by Wash-
ington, including US$6 billion in direct grants and up to US$20 billion in
loan guarantees.21 The Turkish decision had a direct military impact. The
United States had planned to deploy more than 60,000 troops in Turkey,
including a strike force from the Fourth Infantry Division. The battle
plan against Iraq called for a two-pronged attack from both north and
south. US officials were so confident of Turkish cooperation that more
than 30 military transport ships were on their way or already deployed
off Turkey’s Mediterranean coast as the decision was being made. Sev-
eral hundred US support troops were in Turkey, renovating bases and
ports in preparation for the invasion force. The Turkish parliament’s
last-minute rejection forced Pentagon planners to redeploy the Fourth
Division and other troops to the south, creating a more complicated and
difficult invasion scenario.
The rejection of war in Turkey came from a democratic, moderate Is-
lamist government – precisely the kind of regime US officials claim to
want for Iraq and other Middle East countries. The problem for US offi-
cials was that an expression of democratic sentiment meant rejection of
American policy. Turkey’s Justice and Development Party had won the
November 2002 elections in part by appealing to popular opposition to
US war plans. A March 2003 poll by the Pew Research Center for the
People and the Press measured anti-war opposition in Turkey at 86 per
cent. Some 300,000 people demonstrated in Ankara as members of par-
liament gathered to vote on 1 March. The legislators were under enor-
mous pressure, pulled by a powerful ally to provide military cooperation,
pushed by an energized domestic constituency to represent the over-
whelming popular rejection of war. It was a critically important moment
for the young Justice and Development Party, which was trying to create
a more democratic, yet Islamist, tradition in Turkish politics. When the
parliamentary votes were tallied, the resolution to approve the US re-
quest fell three votes short of the required majority. Officials in Washing-
ton immediately demanded a revote, but Turkish leaders refused, fearing
that an attempt to overturn the vote would bring down the government.
The Turkish people and their elected representatives had spoken. The
answer was no.
There were countless other global anti-war expressions. In Australia,
the Senate voted to censure Prime Minister John Howard for agreeing
to deploy troops to Iraq without parliamentary approval. It was the first
no-confidence vote in the chamber’s 102-year history. Australian opinion
polls at the time showed 76 per cent of the public against participation in
a war without UN backing.22 In the national elections of October 2004,
however, Australian voters gave Prime Minister Howard an unprece-
dented fourth term in office. In South Korea, Roh Moo Hyun won the
presidency in December 2002, in part by riding a tide of anti-American
sentiment. In his political campaign, Roh vowed to continue the concilia-
tory ‘‘sunshine’’ policy toward North Korea of his predecessor, Kim Dai
Jung, rather than the confrontational approach favoured by the Bush
administration. Roh’s electoral victory was the third among long-term
American allies based upon popular rejection of US foreign policy. In
Pakistan, the elections of October 2002 showed a significant gain for
pro-Taliban, anti-American religious parties. A group of six hard-line
parties, campaigning on a platform that included sharp criticism of US
policy, won a higher than expected number of seats in Pakistan’s national
assembly and gained a majority in the North-West Frontier Province near
the Afghanistan border.23 The election results were more anti-American
than anti-war, but they were another sign of deepening political opposi-
tion to the United States around the world.
The significance of this pervasive anti-war sentiment for US policy
can scarcely be exaggerated. The anti-war movement contributed to a
major realignment of global public opinion. Former president Jimmy
Carter wrote, ‘‘The heartfelt sympathy and friendship offered to America
after the 9/11 attacks, even from formerly antagonistic regimes, has been
largely dissipated; increasingly unilateral and domineering policies have
84 DAVID CORTRIGHT
brought international trust in our country to its lowest level in mem-

ory.’’24 Washington’s inability to win UN Security Council authorization
for war undermined the legitimacy of American policy, and contributed
to Turkey’s rejection of US basing rights, which disrupted military plan-
ning. When the invasion began, no major government other than that of
the United Kingdom agreed to participate. This added to the US military
burden. In the post-war occupation, Washington’s efforts to recruit a sub-
stantial international force were largely unsuccessful. As of December
2003, only 24,000 international troops were in Iraq, half of them from
the United Kingdom, the rest consisting of modest contingents from Po-
land, Italy, Spain, Ukraine, Bulgaria and an array of smaller countries.
Nor was Washington successful in gaining substantial financial support
for Iraq’s reconstruction. Having pushed ahead with the invasion against
the advice of virtually the entire world, Washington was left on its own to
attempt to deal with the violent and chaotic aftermath. The United States
paid a high price for alienating international opinion and rejecting the
global plea for peace.
The disastrous consequences of the occupation, combined with the
war’s unpopularity and lack of legitimacy, created additional political
and military challenges for the United States. Spain withdrew its troops
after the March 2004 election of the socialist prime minister, Jose Luis
Rodriguez Zapatero. By the end of 2004, approximately half a dozen of
the countries previously participating in the US-led coalition also with-
drew their forces. In Ukraine, reform candidate Viktor Yushchenko won
the December 2004 election on a platform that included a pledge to with-
draw Ukraine’s 1,600 troops from Iraq. The task of maintaining the occu-
pation against fierce resistance and amidst widespread chaos thus re-
mained primarily a US and UK burden.
Media communications
The Iraq anti-war movement featured the largest, most sophisticated and
most successful media communications effort in the history of the peace
movement. Anti-war movements traditionally have suffered from poor
media relations. As Todd Gitlin and others have observed, peace activists
have been slow to appreciate the enormous significance of media commu-
nications for social change. In recent decades, however, peace and justice
activists have come to recognize the power and influence of the media.
They have seen how communications strategies are becoming the domi-
nant factor in shaping political discourse and swaying political opinion.
When the debate over war in Iraq began, many activists were determined
to mount an effective public relations and media communications
campaign.
The 15 February demonstrations in the United States and around the

world were enormously successful in attracting media coverage of the
anti-war movement. The demonstrations that day were the lead story
in practically every broadcast and print news source in the United States
and in much of the world. Never before had the peace movement at-
tracted so much press coverage. The image of the anti-war movement as
a ‘‘superpower’’ was the direct result of those demonstrations and the re-
sulting media coverage. The demonstrations conveyed a simple ‘‘no to
war’’ message that was easily understood and resonated well with world
opinion. The actions of the women’s organization Code Pink, although
much smaller in scale than the United for Peace and Justice demonstra-
tions, were also successful in generating favourable media coverage. By
appropriating feminist language and symbols, and by employing disrup-
tive theatrics, Code Pink activists attracted considerable press attention
and helped to frame opposition to war as a special concern of women.
Win Without War was specifically created as a vehicle for media com-
munications. The coalition placed a great deal of emphasis on the fram-
ing of its message and the maintenance of a sustained and disciplined
press operation. From the outset, Win Without War sought to portray it-
self as mainstream and patriotic. By framing its message in patriotic
terms, Win Without War sought to capture the flag and thereby inoculate
itself against the usual charges of aiding the enemy. The coalition, and
many others in the anti-war movement, explicitly condemned the policies
and rule of Saddam Hussein, and supported vigorous inspections and
containment as means of countering the Iraqi military threat. The coali-
tion expressed full support for the international campaign against terror-
ism, although it was careful to avoid any specific reference to or support
for the administration’s ‘‘war on terror’’ (so as not to reinforce Bush’s
militarized metaphor and policies). Through the framing and delivery of
these patriotic messages, Win Without War sought to reach the political
mainstream and effectively contest the Bush administration’s case for war.
The Win Without War coalition name was itself a form of message
framing. The phrase was alliterative and easy to express. It conveyed a
positive theme (everyone wants to ‘‘win’’) without the negativity of being
‘‘against’’ war or the military. Yet it was specific about seeking a solution
‘‘without war’’, thus marking a clear break with the position of the Bush
administration. The title implied support for constructive alternatives to
war, such as vigorous UN weapons inspections and continued contain-
ment. It avoided the ambiguity and negative connotation that some
people, still influenced by Cold War misconceptions, associate with the
traditional ‘‘peace’’ movement. The Win Without War name projected a
new, proactive image for the anti-war movement. It was both message
and sound bite, and it became a brand that was the most widely commu-
nicated message of the anti-war movement.25
86 DAVID CORTRIGHT
The Iraq anti-war movement was the most successful in history at me-
dia communications. Through the extensive use of the Internet, profes-
sional public relations services, paid newspaper and television advertis-
ing, and the participation of famous artists and musicians, the movement
utilized the tools of mass communications to an unprecedented degree.
More than a dozen full-page advertisements in the New York Times, hun-
dreds of ads in local newspapers, hundreds of national and regional tele-
vision ad placements, thousands of national and local television and radio
interview programme appearances, and thousands of articles in national
and local newspapers – all brought visibility and credibility to the anti-
war message. The Win Without War media effort generated hundreds
of millions of viewer impressions. This vast media communications cam-
paign did not sway the unlistening Bush administration, but it signifi-
cantly influenced public opinion.
Reflections
Despite the unprecedented scale and scope of the Iraq anti-war

movement – the largest anti-war demonstrations in history, a campaign
of global dimensions, a sophisticated and wide-reaching media effort –
the Bush administration ignored the pervasive opposition to war and
went ahead with its planned invasion. Given the administration’s deter-
mination to remove Saddam Hussein by force, the movement probably
had little chance of halting the march to war. Nor did the movement
have much time to organize – less than six months from the time the ma-
jor coalitions began to take shape in October 2002 until the onset of war
in March 2003. The broad public opposition to war nonetheless had
significant impacts. The administration’s decision to take its case to
the United Nations was a victory for the advocates of diplomacy in the
United States and around the world. Hard-liners in the administration
would have preferred to bypass the Security Council and proceed directly
to military action, but the administration needed at least the appearance
of seeking UN involvement to gain political legitimacy in Congress and
elsewhere. Once the UN debate began, France, Russia and other coun-
tries were successful in forcing substantial changes in the draft resolution
submitted by the United States and United Kingdom in October 2002.
The resulting resolution in November, Security Council Resolution 1441,
lacked the explicit authorization for military action that Washington and
London had sought.
When the Bush administration returned to the Security Council in Feb-
ruary 2003 to seek authority for war, it was decisively rebuffed. Not only
France, Germany and Russia but six non-permanent members – Chile,
Mexico, Cameroon, Guinea, Angola and Pakistan – refused to support

the US proposal. The opposition of the non-permanent members was es-
pecially significant, given their political and economic dependence on the
United States. Washington made determined efforts to twist their arms,
including diplomatic missions to each country, but to no avail. As Phyllis
Bennis noted, the strength of worldwide anti-war sentiment prevented
the Bush administration from gaining UN support for its planned inva-
sion and forced the administration to abandon efforts to win UN en-
dorsement.26 As a result, the United States and the United Kingdom
stood practically alone in their drive for war. The importance of this Se-
curity Council rebuff to the United States is enormous. It was, according
to scholar Immanuel Wallerstein, ‘‘the first time since the United Nations
was founded that the United States, on an issue that mattered to it, could
not get a majority on the Security Council’’.27 This was widely recog-
nized as a humiliating political defeat for the supposed lone superpower.
It represented a decisive loss of legitimacy and a fundamental weakening
of US political power and prestige.
The interplay between the anti-war movement and the United Nations
deserves special comment. Most UN officials and Security Council mem-
bers were opposed to the war but were powerless to stop it. The UN Se-
curity Council by its very design is a captive of the permanent powers
and, when its most powerful member is bent on military aggression, the
United Nations has no capacity to prevent it. The most important power
of the Security Council is its authority to confer international legitimacy.
When it withholds consent, as it did in Iraq, it denies legitimacy. It was
able to do so because of the worldwide anti-war movement. A creative
dialectic developed between the Security Council and global civil society:
the public opposition to war hinged on the lack of UN authorization; the
objection of the United Nations in turn depended on the strength of anti-
war opposition. The stronger the anti-war movement in Germany, France,
Mexico and other countries, the greater the determination of UN diplo-
mats to resist US pressures. The stronger the objections at the United
Nations, the greater the legitimacy and political impact of the anti-war
movement.28 It was a unique and unprecedented form of global political
synergy. By defending the United Nations, despite its many shortcom-
ings, and insisting upon international authorization for the use of force,
the peace movement helped to build the domestic opposition to war and
strengthened respect for international law.
The dialectic between civil society and the United Nations is not with-
out contradiction, however. As Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu and Ramesh
Thakur note, there is a disconnect between the rising role of civil society
in recent decades and the continuing concentration of authority in the
hands of nation-states and intergovernmental organizations. The domina-
88 DAVID CORTRIGHT
tion of the state system at the United Nations significantly limits the influ-
ence of non-governmental actors. In some instances, government leaders
attempt to use the United Nations instrumentally to shape domestic
political dynamics. Some governments, such as those in Germany and
France, have used diplomacy at the United Nations to appeal to anti-
war opinion at home. Other countries, such as Australia, Italy and Japan,
have cited international obligations to the United States and the United
Nations to override domestic anti-war sentiments. Even when govern-
ments are highly attentive to public opinion, they are less likely to be
swayed on matters of international policy than on issues of domestic pol-
icy. Anti-war movements face special challenges in attempting to exert
political influence. Because national security is at stake, or is claimed to
be, there is a greater tendency on the part of the public to give political
leaders the benefit of the doubt. Citizens tend to be less well informed on
international issues than on domestic issues. Foreign policy is usually less
subject than domestic policy to democratic control. When foreign policy
is mediated through international institutions, the challenge of exerting
democratic influence is even greater.
The degree to which anti-war opposition weighed on the deliberations
of the Bush administration is unknown, and may not be known until for-
mer officials write their memoirs. In the aftermath of the 15 February
demonstrations, the President professed to be unmoved by the massive
protests, saying that he would not decide policy merely on the basis of a
‘‘focus group’’.29 Such denials of social movement influence are standard
fare among political leaders who are the target of protest. During the
Viet Nam era, President Nixon dismissed the huge Moratorium rally
at the Washington Monument on 15 November 1969, claiming that he
ignored the protest and was watching football on television. As Daniel
Ellsberg later observed, however, the memoirs of Nixon and of his top
aide H. R. Haldeman showed that the administration was deeply con-
cerned about the Moratorium actions, and was forced to abandon its
plans for a major military escalation against North Viet Nam for fear of
sparking even greater protests.30 Ronald Reagan and his advisers dis-
missed the nuclear freeze demonstrations and referenda of the early
1980s as ‘‘all sponsored by a thing called the World Peace Council’’31 (a
false and absurd attempt to attack the movement as communistic). In
fact, US public pressure during the 1980s derailed the MX missile system,
blocked civil defence planning, persuaded Congress to halt funding for
nuclear tests and forced the White House to begin negotiations with the
Soviets that eventually led to significant arms reduction.32
One impact of the Iraq anti-war debate that has not been widely ac-
knowledged was the strategic decision of the White House to justify its
pre-planned war by emphasizing the supposed threat from Iraqi weapons
of mass destruction. In a moment of unscripted candour after the war,

Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz, a principal proponent of at-
tacking Iraq, acknowledged that the focus on weapons of mass destruc-
tion was politically motivated. During an interview with Vanity Fair mag-
azine, Wolfowitz stated: ‘‘The truth is that for reasons that have a lot to
do with U.S. government bureaucracy, we settled on the one issue that
everyone could agree on, which was weapons of mass destruction as the
core reason.’’33 This was an admission that the administration could not
make an honest case for war and win the debate. Because opposition
to war was so great, it was necessary to manipulate and deceive public
opinion. By choosing to emphasize the weapons threat – disingenuously
invoking fears of a nuclear mushroom cloud and chemical or biological
attack – the administration focused the debate on issues it knew would
be effective in mobilizing public concern. The tactic was successful in the
short term, convincing many Americans that Saddam Hussein had deadly
weapons poised to strike. But the strategy backfired when White House
claims were exposed as lies – in part through the continuing efforts of
anti-war groups.
It is too early to tell as of this writing how the crisis over the Bush ad-
ministration’s invasion and occupation of Iraq will unfold. The US mili-
tary easily defeated the depleted and dispirited Iraqi armed forces, but
the challenge of occupying and controlling Iraq turned out to be far
more difficult. Many of the arguments made by the anti-war movement
prior to the war were proven correct in its aftermath. The administra-
tion’s deceit in justifying war set the context for the political problems
the White House began to face afterwards. The anti-war movement’s
steady drumbeat about the lack of justification for war – the absence of
a verified weapons threat in Iraq, the failure to demonstrate a link be-
tween Saddam Hussein and al-Qaeda – laid the groundwork for subse-
quent criticism of the Bush administration when in fact no weapons
threat or terrorist connections were found. The post-war acknowledge-
ments of faulty intelligence and flawed assumptions undermined confi-
dence in the administration’s foreign policy, especially its new doctrine
of military pre-emption. The anti-war movement thus continued to have
political influence even after the conflict was over.
The ways in which social movements influence policy are not always
readily apparent. They often emerge in unanticipated form or in future
impacts. Movements can win even as they lose. Although the anti-war
movement did not succeed in preventing the invasion of Iraq, it helped
to set the terms of the debate and exerted considerable influence on pub-
lic opinion. The Bush administration rammed through its war policy, but
it lost the larger and more important struggle for hearts and minds. The
war was lost politically before it ever began militarily. The legitimacy
90 DAVID CORTRIGHT
of American leadership suffered grievous setbacks on the international

level. Whether these developments will translate into a long-term loss
for US militarism, and a concurrent increase in support for cooperative
internationalism, is unknown. The answer will depend on whether the
legacy of the international movement against war in Iraq is sustained
and deepened in the years ahead.
Notes
1. Estimates of the numbers of demonstrators and anti-war events are drawn from
the website of United for Peace and Justice, the largest grassroots peace coalition in
the United States. See ‘‘The World Says No to War’’, 15 February 2003, hhttp://www.
unitedforpeace.org/feb15.htmli (accessed 24 November 2003). For newspaper accounts
of the protests, see Angelique Chrisafis et al., ‘‘Threat of War: Millions Worldwide
Rally for Peace’’, Guardian (London), 17 February 2003, p. 6; Glenn Frankel, ‘‘Millions
Worldwide Protest Iraq War’’, Washington Post, 16 February 2003, p. A1; Alan Lowell,
‘‘1.5 Million Demonstrators in Cities across Europe Oppose a War in Iraq’’, New York
Times, 16 February 2003, Section 1, p. 20.
2. Barbara Epstein, ‘‘Notes on the Antiwar Movement’’, Monthly Review, Vol. 55, No. 3
(2003).
3. Ibid.
4. Mark Levine, ‘‘The Peace Movement Plans for the Future’’, Middle East Report, July
2003, hhttp://www.merip.org/mero/interventions/levine_interv.htmli (accessed 24 No-
vember 2003).
5. Stephen Gill, Power and Resistance in the New World Order (London: Palgrave, 2003),
p. 218.
6. Rebecca Solnit, ‘‘Acts of Hope: Challenging Empire on the World Stage’’, Orion,
20 May 2003, hhttp://www.oriononline.org/pages/oo/sidebars/Patriotism/index_SolnitPR.
htmli (accessed 24 November 2003).
7. Patrick E. Tyler, ‘‘Threats and Responses: News Analysis; A New Power in the
Streets’’, New York Times, 17 February 2003, p. A1.
8. Jonathan Schell, ‘‘The Other Superpower’’, The Nation, 27 March 2003, hhttp://
www.thenation.com/doc.mhtml?i=20030414&s=schelli (accessed 14 September 2004).
9. Jeoffrey Nunberg, ‘‘As Google Goes, So Goes the Nation’’, New York Times, 18 May
2003, Section 4, p. 4.
10. James F. Moore, ‘‘The Second Super-Power Rears Its Beautiful Head’’, Berkman
Center for Internet and Society, Harvard Law School, 31 March 2003, hhttp://cyber.law.
harvard.edu/people/jmoore/secondsuperpower.htmli (accessed 21 November 2003).
11. Levine, ‘‘The Peace Movement Plans for the Future’’.
12. Leslie Cagan, interview by author, 26 August 2003.
13. Based on my personal conversations with the directors of the three organizations –
Susan Shaer, Kevin Martin and Bob Musil – in September 2003.
14. Glenn Kessler and Mike Allen, ‘‘Bush Faces Increasingly Poor Image Overseas’’, Wash-
ington Post, 24 February 2003, p. A01; CNN, ‘‘Poll: U.S. More a Threat Than Iraq’’, 11
February 2003, hhttp://edition.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/europe/02/11/british.surveyi (ac-
cessed 19 November 2003).
15. Stefaan Walgrave and Joris Verhulst, ‘‘The February 15 Worldwide Protests against a
War in Iraq: An Empirical Test of Transnational Opportunities’’, unpublished paper,
University of Antwerp, 2003.
16. Crowd estimates in this paragraph are drawn from Bill Weinberg, ‘‘Antiwar around the
World’’, Global Movement Against War: Taking it to the Streets, Nonviolent Activist,
Vol. 20, No. 2 (2003). See also Norm Dixon, ‘‘The Largest Coordinated Antiwar Protest
in History’’, Scoop (New Zealand), 20 February 2003, hhttp://www.scoop.co.nz/mason/
archive/scoop/stories/ed/fa/200302201002.43a56c8a.htmli (accessed 14 November 2003).
17. BBC, ‘‘Pope Condemns War in Iraq’’, 13 January 2003, hhttp://www.news.bbc.co.uk/z/
hi/europe/2654109.stmi (accessed 24 November 2003).
18. CBC, ‘‘Pope Says War Threatens Humanity’’, 22 March 2003, hhttp://www.cbc.cn/
stories/2003/03/22/popewar_030322i (accessed 24 November 2003).
19. Tekla Szymanski, ‘‘Schröder Beats Bush in German Election’’, World Press Review, 26
September 2002, hhttp://www.worldpress.org/europe/741.cfmi (accessed 19 November
2003).
20. Philip P. Pan, ‘‘Turkey Rejects U.S. Use of Bases’’, Washington Post, 2 March 2003,
p. A1.
21. CNN, ‘‘NATO Approves Turkish Deployment’’, 20 February 2003, hhttp://www.cnn.
com/2003/WORLD/meast/02/19/sprj.irq.nato.turkey/index.htmli (accessed 19 Novem-
ber 2003).
22. BBC, ‘‘Australian PM Censured over Iraq’’, 5 February 2003, hhttp://news.bbc.co.uk/2/
low/asia-pacific/2727551.stmi (accessed 19 November 2003).
23. Guardian (London), ‘‘Boost for Religious Parties in Pakistan Elections’’, 11 October
2002, hhttp://www.guardian.co.uk/pakistan/Story/0,2763,810103,00.htmli (accessed 21
November 2003).
24. Jimmy Carter, ‘‘Just War – or a Just War?’’, New York Times, 9 March 2003.
25. The phrase was derived from the report by David Cortright, Alistair Millar and George
A. Lopez, Winning Without War: Sensible Security Options for Dealing with Iraq, Policy
Brief F5, October 2002, hhttp://www.fourthfreedom.orgi (accessed 21 November 2003).
26. Phyllis Bennis, ‘‘Bush Isolated, Launches Terrifying Attack’’, War Times, April 2003,
hwww.war-times.org/current/9art1.htmli (accessed 24 November 2003).
27. Immanuel Wallerstein, ‘‘U.S. Weakness and the Struggle for Hegemony’’, Monthly Re-
view, Vol. 55, No. 3 (2003), p. 28.
28. I am indebted for this insight to Jack Odell, interview by author, 17 December 2003.
29. Quoted in Richard W. Stevenson, ‘‘Antiwar Protests Fail to Sway Bush on Plans for
Iraq’’, New York Times, 19 February 2003, p. A1.
30. See the account of Daniel Ellsberg, ‘‘Introduction: A Call to Mutiny’’, in E. P. Thomp-
son and Dan Smith, eds, Protest and Survive (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1981),
pp. xv–xvi.
31. Quoted in Strobe Talbott, Deadly Gambits: The Reagan Administration and the Stale-
mate in Nuclear Arms Control (New York: Vintage Books, 1985).
32. See the summary of these impacts in David Cortright, Peace Works: The Citizen’s Role
in Ending the Cold War (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993).
33. See the transcript of the Wolfowitz interview by Sam Tannenhaus of Vanity Fair, 9 May
2003, hhttp://www.defenselink.mil/transcripts/2003/tr20030509-depsecdef0223.htmli (ac-
cessed 24 November 2003).
Part III
Perspectives from within the region
6
Iraq and world order:
A Lebanese perspective
Latif Abul-Husn
Prelude
The purpose of this chapter is to explore the relationship of the Iraq

crisis to the changing post–Cold War world order and its impact on Leb-
anon. I first deal with the US justifications for the invasion of Iraq in
March 2003. I then look at the basic changes in the world order vis-à-vis
US foreign policy options after 9/11 and the shift from a world order
centred around the United Nations to one centred around and dominated
largely by the United States. After assessing the proposed US democrati-
zation process in Iraq and beyond, I examine Lebanon’s experience with
consociationalism and power-sharing arrangements as a model for de-
mocracy in Iraq. Finally, I discuss the impact of the crisis on Lebanon’s
regional and international relations and the role played by international
actors through the United Nations organizations.
The main argument of this chapter is that the United States is the super-
power in this unipolar global system and is too great to be challenged by
other states or non-state actors but not great enough to act alone in solv-
ing the emerging new problems.
The terrorist attack of 11 September 2001 on the twin towers of the
World Trade Center in New York and on the Pentagon in Washington
DC had an indelible impact on the US psyche. Prior to 9/11, the United
States felt safe and secure within its borders and was confident that it
could contain or deal with any threat in a variety of ways. After this at-
tack, however, the administration quickly realized that terrorism and the
95
96 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
proliferation of weapons of mass destruction constituted a credible and

potentially devastating threat to the security of America. This prompted
the United States to reverse some of its policy options and act swiftly,
forcefully and decisively to dissipate the feeling of fear and insecurity
among its people, thus forsaking much of its universally acclaimed values,
such as the inadmissibility of intervention in the internal affairs of sover-
eign states and reverence for international law. The policy of contain-
ment gave way to the doctrine of preventive strikes at potential threats
to US interests, and the support for international alliances gave way to a
sort of unilateralism. Following the 9/11 attack, the urgent challenge for
the United States became how to combat terrorism and proscribe the
proliferation of weapons of mass destruction.
Combating terrorism and the dilemma of weapons

of mass destruction
Iraq was accused of possessing and producing weapons of mass destruc-

tion (WMD). That was the major reason for going to war with Iraq in
March 2003. The United States felt that the existence of such weapons
in the hands of a ‘‘rogue state’’, such as Saddam’s Iraq, posed a signifi-
cant threat to the security and interests of the United States and Iraq’s
neighbours, meaning Israel and probably some Gulf states. An interna-
tional process of inspection, monitoring, verification and destruction of
such alleged weapons was set in motion. The inspection process, con-
ducted by the United Nations, by the International Atomic Energy
Agency (IAEA) and, later on, by the United States (in the aftermath of
the occupation of Iraq) went on from 1991 to 2003,1 but WMD were
nowhere to be found. The eight years of inspection by the UN/IAEA
between 1991 and 1998 yielded no empirical evidence of the existence of
such weapons. The UN team announced later that it had ‘‘destroyed
most, if not all, of Iraq’s unconventional weapons and production facili-
ties, and directly destroyed or monitored the destruction of most of its
chemical and biological weapon agents’’.2 Likewise, the United States
Survey Group failed to uncover WMD, despite the free access it had to
suspicious sites, a privilege denied to the UN/IAEA teams. In the light
of these results, and faced with rather broad condemnation, the Bush ad-
ministration embarked on a downward adjustment of its war goals as well
as of its expectations of the inspectors’ findings. The Bush administration
shifted its proclaimed objectives from neutralizing a direct threat to
the United States and the destruction of WMD to more contingent and
perhaps less controversial issues such as: the failure of Iraq to comply
with UN Security Council Resolutions 687 of 8 April 1991 and 1441 of
A LEBANESE PERSPECTIVE 97
8 November 2002; freeing the people of Iraq from the brutality of a re-
pressive regime (humanitarian intervention); and, lastly, establishing de-
mocracy in Iraq and beyond.
From the outset, public opinion in Lebanon and most of the Arab
world was strongly sceptical of the US intentions and claims. The crisis
brought to the forefront two main concerns: a growing anxiety over an
unrestrained American power which might be challenged and eventually
lead to a veritable ‘‘clash of civilizations’’, and the prospect of destabili-
zation and regime changes in the region. It was emphatically believed
that the United States had avaricious motives in Iraq. The war was not
wholly about WMD and combating terrorism, or about the threat posed
by Saddam Hussein to US security and world peace, or about his defiance
of the United Nations, or about the desire of the United States to bring
liberty and democracy to Iraq and the greater Middle East. It was widely
suspected that the real motivation behind the war was the United States’
desire to control the sources of energy3 and to establish and maintain
global domination.4 The United States found a favourable target in Sad-
dam’s shunned and unpopular regime. Moreover, the US assessment of
the WMD in Iraq was seen by the average Arab citizen as another ex-
ample of US policy, which ignores Israel’s production and stockpiling of
such weapons as well as its stock of nuclear armaments. The argument
abounds that, if the United States wants to make the world more secure,
why not call for a nuclear arms free Middle East region, excluding no
one.
On 20 March 2003, a US-led ‘‘coalition of the willing’’ invaded Iraq
without the explicit authorization of the Security Council. This military
invasion achieved a swift victory over Iraq. No one doubted that out-
come. Iraq was an isolated, exhausted and demoralized regime and a
state crippled by 13 years of economic and military sanctions. The com-
pelling issue was whether the war was really necessary or justified and
what would happen in the aftermath to Iraq and to the region. Europe
was asymmetrically divided on the issue. The Arab world was numbed,
unable to cope with the rationale and consequences of the war. In less
than a month, Iraq was occupied, an oppressive regime defeated and de-
posed, the state institutions destroyed, the army of 400,000 disbanded,
the ruling Ba’ath Party outlawed and persecuted, and society’s centrifu-
gal ethno-religious forces unleashed, although the petroleum industry
was seemingly safe and well protected by the occupying powers.5
Nonetheless, the stated US policy remained unequivocal. It continued
to assert that Saddam’s WMD and his suspected links to al-Qaeda terror-
ists constituted a threat to the United States and to regional and world
peace. However, when the combined UN/IAEA and US Survey Group
inspection process failed to uncover any WMD, no credible links to
98 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
al-Qaeda were apparent, and the US-led coalition’s efforts to govern the
country became unexpectedly costly and futile, a face-saving strategy,
embracing the notion of liberty and democracy, became America’s new
rationale for waging war against Iraq.
The war on Iraq epitomized the US quest for centrality in world affairs
and its desire to capture the ‘‘commanding heights’’ of the new world or-
der and remain at its apex for the foreseeable future, thus denying the
United Nations and any major power a vital role in shaping the interna-
tional system. The world became polarized between power and legality.
Events at the end of the 1980s provided the United States with an op-
portunity to become the leader of a unipolar world. The collapse of com-
munism, the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the disbanding of the
Warsaw Pact left the United States as the only superpower. In addition,
those events removed a major source of insecurity for the United States,
enabling it to concentrate on two issues: serving democracy at home and
nurturing its new unipolar status. The United States therefore felt that
it could afford to disengage from certain international commitments and
revert to a mild form of unilateralism, which its self-interest called for.
The post–Cold War order and the United States

Before 9/11 there were strong indications that US foreign policy was
moving in the direction of disengagement from some of its major interna-
tional commitments. The Bush administration rejected the verification
protocol of the UN Biological Weapons Convention, the Kyoto Climate
Change Protocol, missile conventions, and the International Criminal
Court. The 9/11 attacks seemed to have motivated the United States to
change course and embrace a more assertive security-centred foreign
policy.
The 9/11 events prompted the Bush administration to make significant
changes in its foreign policy options. The new course tilted towards
unilateralism and was based on two principles: to ‘‘maximize America’s
freedom to act’’, and to use its strength to ‘‘change the status quo of the
world’’.6 To the neoconservatives of the Bush Jr administration, the
‘‘1990s were a decade of illusions in foreign policy. On September 11,
2001, this age of illusion ended. The United States asked its friends and
allies to join in the fight against terror and discovered that . . . those
friends and allies were prepared to do little.’’7 As for the United Nations’
authority to maintain peace and order in the world, the neoconservatives
believed that the United Nations ought to support the United States in its
quest for security; otherwise, ‘‘we should formally reject the UN’s au-
thority over our war on terror’’.8 High on the agenda of the neoconserva-
tives was the doctrine of pre-emptive war and combating terrorism.
The doctrine of pre-emptive war as a tool for combating terrorism
Combating terrorism became a focus of US security concerns after 9/11.

The war on Iraq was subsumed under this doctrine. Iraq was elevated to
a principal target in the war on terrorism. The post–Cold War doctrine
of deterrence was supplanted by the doctrine of pre-emptive war. The
United States claimed the right to attack a country it identifies as its en-
emy or a possible launching pad for an attack on the United States, even
before that country could harm the United States. The concept of self-
defence (Article 51 of the UN Charter) was thus converted, according to
this doctrine, into an offensive pre-emptive initiative. It is obvious that
such a shift would terminate the consensus upon which the UN system
of collective security rests. The Security Council refused to endorse di-
rect pre-emptive military action against Iraq. Nevertheless, this doctrine
‘‘became the official strategy of the US’’,9 supplanting the policy of con-
tainment, dual containment and deterrence. Major changes in the new
world order provided the United States with a ‘‘menu’’ that was rela-
tively free from the constraints that had usually affected its foreign policy
options during the Cold War era.
The changing profile of the world order and its impact on the Iraq
crisis
Specificities in the evolving world order have contributed to the Iraq

crisis in a number of ways. First, the world order after the end of the
Cold War itself acted as a spawning ground for the upsurge in centrifugal
conflictual tendencies inherent in pluralist societies. Iraq’s socio-political
and ethnic structures are no exception. Second, the demise of the Soviet
Union changed the international system from a bipolar to a unipolar sys-
tem, depriving Iraq of possible Soviet intervention on its side, as might
have occurred had the invasion taken place before 1989. Third, the
United Nations, being the custodian and guarantor of world peace, was
released from the shackles of Cold War superpower rivalries. The Iraq
crisis offered the United Nations an opportunity to expand its role into
the areas of deterrence and conflict prevention.
The Westphalian concept of sovereignty could not be utilized after the
end of the Cold War as a shield to conceal a regime’s oppressive policies.
The changes in the world order that had an impact on the Iraq crisis can
be summed up as: an end to bipolarity (in the demise of the Soviet Union
100 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
Iraq lost a staunch ally against the West); the petering out of superpower
rivalry; an end to doctrines of containment and deterrence; a commit-
ment to liberal democracy and an open market economy; a decline in
the sanctity of state sovereignty; and an upsurge in ethno-national and
religious conflicts. New concepts such as ‘‘combating terrorism’’, ‘‘pre-
emptive war’’ and ‘‘global democratic revolution’’ were forced on the
international system as the new framework for conducting international
relations. However, the perception of these principles by world leaders
was not uniform. The majority of international actors expressed unques-
tioning support for the United Nations in the face of the new challenges
emanating from the war as well as from the evolving world order.
Challenges to the United Nations
The end of the Cold War and the demise of the Soviet Union provided
the United Nations Organization with a significant opportunity to free
itself from the shackles of superpower rivalries and veto exchanges in
the Security Council. For almost 45 years the United Nations’ capacity
to take up the role that was intended for it in its Charter was curtailed
by superpower rivalry. The upsurge in ethno-national conflicts and the
disdain of major powers for involvement in their resolution unless they
were directly affected provided the United Nations with an opportunity
to retrieve the world’s faith in its role. Changing attitudes toward inter-
vention in domestic conflict and the desanctification of nation-state sov-
ereignty gave the United Nations a wider margin in its efforts to fulfil its
obligation to maintain peace and order in the world. Yet its effectiveness
in settling and resolving some conflicts in the post–Cold War era was
mixed – there were some successes (Namibia, Cambodia, East Timor,
Mozambique) and some dismal failures (Somalia, Rwanda, Bosnia).10
The ideologically based distrust and hostility that marked international
relations during the Cold War era undoubtedly had an impact on UN ac-
tivities. The vetoes cast in the Security Council, reflecting the parochial
interests of the major powers, rendered the United Nations powerless to
deal with many of the conflicts around the globe.11 As a result, only 13
peacekeeping missions were mounted between 1948 and 1989. As soon
as the superpower rivalries vanished, however, the United Nations as-
sumed a new prominence in world affairs and emerged as an indispensable
instrument in conflict resolution and peacebuilding endeavours. Since
1990, its peace operations have vigorously expanded into new areas, such
as conflict prevention and conflict transformation, peacemaking, peace-
building and post-conflict peacebuilding, as well as peace enforcement.
The post–Cold War order brought about the end of superpower rivalry
and the threat of nuclear confrontation, raising hopes that the world
might, at long last, have entered an era of peace and tranquillity. Al-
though the quest for peace and stability had been nourished by the de-
mise of bipolarity, optimism soon faded as a series of events erupted
around the world. Iraq invaded Kuwait in 1990 with the purpose of an-
nexing it, the former Yugoslavia disintegrated in 1991, war broke out be-
tween Serbia and Croatia, Somalia engaged in a protracted internecine
conflict that involved the major powers and resulted in thousands of ca-
sualties and fatalities, Rwanda succumbed to the nightmare of genocide,
Cambodia’s Pot Pol killed about 3 million of his citizens, and East Timor,
Liberia, Sierra Leone and several other places were not spared the ‘‘but-
terfly effect’’ of conflict.
These were the testing grounds of the post–Cold War order. By failing
to prevent or even to resolve these conflicts, the international community
demonstrated that it had not yet developed resolution capacities in re-
sponse to those deadly conflicts. The United Nations and its agencies
were familiar with inter-state conflicts but not with the domestically
based international conflicts that emerged after the end of the Cold
War. Yet the United Nations was able to overcome this handicap in a
short time. It soon acquired the knowledge and expertise that enabled it
to play a central role in peacekeeping, peacemaking and post-conflict
peacebuilding. This development was affirmed by the world leaders’ deci-
sion at their summit meeting in September 2005, at the UN headquarters
in New York, to recognize the need for a ‘‘peace-building commission’’
that would help countries after the termination of peacekeeping missions.
This endorsement by the international community has seemingly be-
stowed on the United Nations a key role in preventive action.
In the aftermath of the war in Iraq, the US-led coalition failed to put in
place a viable plan to proceed forward. The only place it could turn to for
help was the UN body.12 The UN record in resolving conflicts and its
peacebuilding efforts in war-torn countries such as Mozambique, El Sal-
vador, Haiti, Cambodia and East Timor are testimony to its relevance
and credibility in handling such conflicts at that stage of their life cycle.
Meanwhile, the international community was pressing the United States
to make the United Nations a full partner in the rebuilding efforts of the
new order in Iraq. In the United States itself, leading opposition figures
‘‘demanded at once that the U.N. play a vital role in post war Iraq and
rejected U.S. control of reconstruction or of the post-Saddam govern-
ment’’.13 Europe was vocal in its support for a vigorous and central role
for the United Nations in the new Iraqi order. In a statement on 17 Feb-
ruary 2003, 15 heads of state of the European Union reaffirmed their
commitment to the United Nations and demanded a central role for the
organization in the emerging post 9/11 international order.14 Likewise,
the League of Arab States, meeting at summit level in Tunisia on 16–17
102 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
May 2004, called for a central role for the United Nations in the transi-
tional period, as well as in the political process that would lead to the
termination of the occupation and the rebuilding of state institutions in
Iraq.15
What role did the United Nations play before, during and in the after-
math of the war in Iraq? Two opposing views dominated perceptions
of the UN role. The first, that of the United States, suggested that the
United Nations was irrelevant not only because the Security Council
failed to authorize the war but because the United Nations itself ‘‘is not
some immemorial achievement of the human race’’.16 The other view,
advocated by most of the rest of the world, maintained that the United
Nations had fulfilled its traditional role throughout the crisis, pointing to
the fact that the Security Council was true to the goals of its Charter
when it refused to authorize the US-led war because it could not recon-
cile the authorization to invade Iraq with the principles and goals of the
Charter. The United States argued that elimination of WMD was a Secu-
rity Council request (Resolutions 687 of April 1991 and 1441 of Novem-
ber 2002). Because Resolution 1441 fell short of automatic authorization
for an enforcement intervention, the United States tried to secure a fresh
resolution authorizing it explicitly to use force against Iraq, but aban-
doned its attempt after failing to obtain the required majority in the Se-
curity Council.17
What sort of a political system is expected to emerge in post-war Iraq?
And what role will the United Nations earn for itself in building this sys-
tem? After its failure to uncover any weapons of mass destruction in
Iraq, the United States shifted its emphasis to democratizing the country
along the principles of Western polyarchies. Its rationale is the much-
applauded belief that democracies tend to be more peaceful, and ‘‘the
more democratic [two states are] the less conflict between them’’.18
The US failure to uncover any WMD, whose discovery could have le-
gitimized its invasion and occupation of the country, led the Bush admin-
istration to search for other justifications. It found its lost treasure in the
concept of democracy and the rule of law. Assuming that ‘‘democracies
do not go to war with each other’’, the United States had publicly de-
clared that its interests would be best protected by the promotion of de-
mocracy in non-democratic states. The WMD crisis was morphed into a
crisis of democracy in Iraq and beyond. Will democracy succeed in Iraq?
The transition to democracy in Iraq
What form might the new democracy conceivably take – a Western-

centred liberal democratic majoritarian system in line with the democ-
ratization wave of the 1980s and 1990s; a consensual form based on

power-sharing; or a democratic system that would give credence to
the significance of Islamic political forms? The answer is rooted in Iraqi
socio-political structures.
Iraq is a pluralist state encompassing several ethnic, sectarian, national
and cultural groups – Arabs, Kurds, Turkmen, Armenians, Shiites, Sun-
nis, Chaldeans, Assyrians, Catholics, Orthodox, Jews and Yazidies. Each
of these groups has demands on the political system. The Kurds wanted
an ‘‘exit’’, whereas most of the others requested ‘‘access’’ to the vestiges
of power and government rewards. They have cultural and religious con-
cerns as well as material and political demands. Saddam Hussein’s regime
was not responsive to the demands of these groups, save for the Kurds,
who in the 1970s were granted a form of autonomy that was reinforced
after the 1990 Gulf war.
As a result of the US-led invasion and occupation of Iraq, Saddam’s
one-party state structure disintegrated and gave way to a multi-party
system, spawning dozens of political, sectarian and ethnic parties and
movements. The most enduring parties were those that had flourished in
opposition in the autonomous regions and outside Iraq during the Sad-
dam era, such as the Iraqi Islamic Party, the Islamic Al-Da’wah Party,
the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq, the Iraqi Na-
tional Accord, the Iraqi National Congress, the Iraqi Communist Party,
the Kurdish Democratic Party, the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, the Iraqi
Turkoman National Party, the Assyrian Democratic Movement and the
Association of Muslim Clerics. Most of the other parties emerged after
the removal of Saddam Hussein from power and the de-Ba’athification of
the ruling party. With the exception of the Iraqi Communist Party, almost
all of these groups were formed along ethnic, sectarian or nationalist
lines.
These parties, groups and movements have diverse goals and agendas,
but they are all vying for a share of power. The struggle to forge a new
identity for the emerging political system in the wake of the fall of Sad-
dam Hussein provided these groups with the opportunity to assert their
own identities and the interests of their communities in the new political
system. Political divisions and cultural cleavages among those groups are
not new. The Sunni Arabs had dominated the political landscape in Iraq
since the country’s independence in 1932. Their hegemonic position was
reinforced by the Saddam regime and his Ba’ath Party. The Sunnis of
Iraq comprise around 32 per cent of the population, compared with the
Shiites who comprise 62 per cent. Most of the component communities
of Iraq have conflicting visions about their role in the post-Saddam polit-
ical system. Sectarian tension ebbs and flows between the Sunnis and Shi-
ites. Moreover, communal tension is evident between the Shiites and the
104 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
Kurds of northern Iraq over the spoils of the new Iraq. The Chaldeans
and the Assyrians are demanding official recognition of their political
and cultural identities and interests. However, this tension has not yet de-
generated into a dissociative and disruptive inter-group conflict. The real-
ity that foreign occupation was likely to persist until a stable political sys-
tem emerged provided an incentive to these groups to forge a consensus
that would overcome conflicting goals and cross-cutting interests. Hostil-
ities are still mostly directed at the forces of occupation but, once the oc-
cupation ends, the conflictual tendencies inherent in the social structure
could erupt and escalate into a deadly inter-group conflict and possibly
civil war.
There is a strong indication that the major political trends in Iraq today
are ethno-religiously based. The armed resistance to occupation is pre-
dominantly Sunni; the demand for a democratically elected government
is basically a Shiite desire; federalism is a Kurdish demand and strategy.
The question is, what kind of a political system can accommodate these
contradictory demands and national aspirations and address the griev-
ances of the component communities of Iraq? The Kurds have already
obtained an autonomous status within the Iraqi political system and
achieved a veto power in the Interim Constitution, which was confirmed
in the permanent charter of the new republic.
The United States’ democratizing initiative was intended to commence
in Iraq and be railroaded through to other Middle East countries, in-
cluding Iran, Pakistan and Afghanistan. This initiative sets out President
Bush’s vision for political, economic and social reform in the greater
Middle East following the overthrow of Saddam’s regime. The fact that
it was floated without consulting the Arab leaders in the region made
this new US strategy susceptible to rejection by the countries concerned.
It has been interpreted as ‘‘another attempt by the US to impose its will
on the Middle East’’.19 Questions were raised about how and by what au-
thority the United States could endow itself with the moral authority to
change regimes in the Middle East and elsewhere. Nevertheless, the ini-
tiative seems to have moved the region in that direction. Arab leaders
pledged at their summit in Tunisia in 2004 to move with the times and re-
new their efforts to build their own brand of home-grown democracy.20
For many in this region, the demand for democracy is long overdue, but
the question is whether Arab civic and political culture is ready for this
move. There also remain the serious questions of how democracy can be
woven into the fabric of the Islamic faith and what form it might take.
Creating a democratic system out of the remnants of a totalitarian state
faces many challenges, the most significant of which are: an absence of
political prerequisites such as a competitive party system, interest groups,
an independent judiciary, a free press and a vibrant civil society; a debili-
tated bureaucracy; a disbanded army; and a tribal social structure that is

unlikely to find expression in a Western-style democratic system. On the
other hand, owing to its abundant natural resources, Iraq does not face
similar challenges in building sustainable economic development.
Nevertheless, the United States has embarked upon a process of re-
building the constitutional-institutional structure of Iraq along the main
lines of pluralist Western democracies. To harness the inherent pluralist
tendencies in Iraqi society, long subdued by the oppressive regime of
Saddam Hussein, a temporary power-sharing arrangement was enshrined
in the Interim Constitution (Law of Administration for the State of Iraq
for the Transitional Period) of 8 March 2004. An Interim Governing
Council was created composed of representatives of the main compo-
nent communities of the country. Its membership reflected the numerical
weight of each community.
Two encouraging signs of democracy-building have emerged from this:
a spirit of concordance among the Shiite majority, the Sunni minority, the
Kurds and other minority groups, and tacit consent for the role of Islam
in the new democracy. Moreover, the Interim Constitution reconciled the
basic principles of liberal democracy with the basic tenets of Islam. How-
ever, the main divisive issue in Iraq was never Islam but federalism and
ethnicity. The new constitution acknowledges the saliency of ethnicity
at the expense of Iraq’s Arab identity, and promotes federalism as a so-
lution to Iraq’s religious and ethnic divisions. The notion of national
unity is conspicuously lacking. The new constitution was approved de-
spite overwhelming opposition from the Sunnis, who, in contrast to mi-
nority groups elsewhere, would prefer a centralized state. The Sunni
community has already expressed its strong reservations about the devo-
lution of power and resources to the other two main communities – the
Kurds and the Shiites; indeed, the Shiites are seeking to create autono-
mous provinces as in Kurdistan. This is not a recipe for democracy;
rather it may be a prescription for the dissolution of Iraq.
Federalism does not always provide an adequate mechanism for con-
flict management. The inherent conflictual tendencies of Iraq’s social
structure were aggravated rather than contained and managed by the
constitution. Regions are to have their own armed forces, and new oil
fields will be controlled by the regions. The Kurds’ constitution can over-
ride that of the central government, thus putting them beyond the reach
of the Supreme Court. Women’s rights are not uniform throughout the
country. The new constitutional framework does not provide the com-
peting communities with common grounds on which to build their demo-
cratic aspirations or create conflict resolution safeguards that could guar-
antee stability and communal peace in the country.
The road to a stable democracy is still a very long one. The absence of
106 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
a participatory political culture that could uphold democratic rule does

not augur well for the future of democracy in Iraq. Moreover, civil soci-
ety organizations need time to emerge and mature. There is no doubt
that political parties and mass media have mushroomed since the defeat
of the authoritarian regime, but will they persist long enough to make an
effective contribution to the political culture? The rebuilding of a civic
culture may be illustrated by examples from Russia, Germany and Italy.
It took about 15 years after the collapse of fascism in Italy and Nazism in
Germany to build a participatory culture in these two countries. In Rus-
sia, over 43 political parties competed for elections in 1995. Only six of
them won seats in the parliament.
The transition to democracy in Iraq is contingent upon the restructur-
ing of the social and political structure of the country. This means that
the state must redefine itself as the political expression of a multi-ethnic
and religious nation, and develop new bonds of loyalties to the state. The
defunct Ba’athist regime’s boundless might had generated an illusion of
monopoly and immortality. The people were numbed and content to be
used as fodder for a leviathan regime.
Although civil society can serve as a context for the process of democ-
ratization, the success of this process depends on effective leadership and
international support.21 Publicly accountable leaders who can inspire and
motivate, and an institutional mechanism through which they can be re-
moved, are needed for the post-Saddam era. In the restructured political
system, there is a need for a leader who can cope with the breakdown of
the Ba’athist regime and the old moral certainties and lead the country
through the expected changes in the Iraqi socio-political structure as a
result of democratization.
Given the lack of integrative mechanisms and conflict resolution prac-
tices in the new constitution, compounded by a feeble participatory polit-
ical culture and an ineffectual leadership structure, the decision makers
in Iraq and the architects of its new political order might find it appro-
priate to look closely at Lebanon’s experiment in conflict resolution and
nation-building.
An alternative road: Consociational democracy –

Lebanon’s experience
Lebanon is a composite of several religious and ethnic communities, both
large and small, organized hierarchically within the confines of a political
system that maintains sectarian identification. Since the mid-nineteenth
century, the relationship between these communities has oscillated be-
tween cooperation and conflict. The political significance of these groups
lies in the role they play as social organizations through which political
security can be achieved. They have evolved over the years into semi-
autonomous socio-political communities with distinctive political and
administrative functions. This distinctiveness is evident in the power-
sharing arrangement upon which Lebanon’s political order rests and in
the country’s civil status law.
Iraq’s social structure has many similarities to and equivalences with
the Lebanese social structure. It is similarly divided and segmented and
harbours similar conflictual (although more violent) tendencies among
its ethno-religious and national component groups. However, the conflict
process in Iraq took a different direction from that in Lebanon. Since its
independence, Iraq had experienced a chain of violent revolts and revo-
lutions that engulfed almost every ethnic, sectarian and minority group.
Societal peace and political stability in Iraq were maintained through
the exercise of a totalitarian rule in which ethnic, sectarian and national-
istic feelings were brutally suppressed.
Lebanon’s political system has manifested and maintained a reason-
ably acceptable level of stability that could lend itself to consociational
explication. Back in 1864, Lebanon’s major communities agreed to share
power. Since then, this arrangement has become the modus operandi of
the evolving political order in Lebanon. It provided the country with al-
most 100 years of stability and communal peace before the power-sharing
arrangements of consociationalism broke down in the mid-1970s, for a
variety of reasons. Some of the causes were rooted in the power-sharing
practices themselves and some were the result of external influences and
pressures. In 1990, consociationalism was resurrected and reintroduced
into the political system, thus restoring the balance in communal entitle-
ments. A long-term remedy to a pluralist conflictual structure was revived.
Power-sharing practices may not be appealing to the minders of the
new Iraq. It is assumed in the West that Arab countries are in need of
strong government authority, ‘‘yet what is needed in Iraq to come into
being, as Lebanon has proven, is a system based on communal compro-
mise and state authority that merely manages, monitors and regulates
centrifugal forces in society without stifling them’’.22
The reverberations of the Iraq crisis have been felt in almost every cor-
ner of the globe, but mostly by the countries of the Middle East. Leba-
non, being an integral part of the Arab world, was affected by the crisis
in the same way as a set of billiard balls are affected by a hit from a mov-
ing ball on a pool table. Moreover, the nature of the interaction and the
degree of interdependence existing between Iraq and its neighbouring
countries make it possible that this crisis might set off a chain of events
throughout the region. The effect of the Iraq crisis and its aftermath on
relations between Lebanon and Syria is discussed next.
108 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
The impact of the Iraq crisis on Lebanon’s regional and

international relations: Syria’s legacy in Lebanon
Relations between Syria and Lebanon are rooted in geographical prox-

imity and historical and cultural bonds. Both countries were placed under
the French mandate in the early 1920s and both gained their indepen-
dence in the mid-1940s. Until 1949 both countries had a joint central
bank, one currency, one customs union, one railway administration, a
common labour market and a coordinated foreign policy. In 1951, these
institutional ties were completely severed and each country sought to de-
velop its own independent infrastructure and its own domestic and for-
eign policy. Lebanon retained a liberal democratic multi-party political
system, whereas Syria experienced a succession of military coups that
transformed it into a centralized state dominated by the Ba’athist Party.
Regional variations, the Arab–Israeli conflict and centrifugal domestic
pressure all had an adverse impact on Lebanon. In 1975, communal con-
flict broke out. It lasted for 15 years, brought the country to a standstill,
exacted an expensive toll on civilian society with significant loss of life
and major destruction of the socio-political structure, and brought all
nation-building efforts to a halt.
At the request of the then president of the republic of Lebanon, and
with the tacit approval of the major powers, Syria intervened at a very
early stage of the conflict. Its intervention progressed from mediation to
full participation, assuming the maximum degree of involvement, both
militarily and politically, depending on the ebb and flow of the conflict.
The termination of hostilities came about with the conclusion, in 1989,
of an inter-communal peace settlement, known as the Taiff Accord, bro-
kered by the Arab League. But Syrian involvement and military presence
in the country persisted unabated, until its forced withdrawal from Leba-
non in April 2005.
The Iraq crisis increased the focus on Syrian intervention in Lebanon
and raised the degree of anxiety of the United States about Syria’s sup-
port of the insurgency in Iraq. This concern prompted the US Congress
to pass a law in December 2003 called the ‘‘Syria Accountability and
Lebanese Sovereignty Restoration Act 2003’’, requesting Syria to ‘‘end
its occupation of Lebanon’’ and cease ‘‘undermining US and interna-
tional efforts with respect to the stabilization and reconstruction of
Iraq’’. Pursuant to this Act, President Bush signed an Executive Order
imposing limited sanctions on Syria for failing to comply with it. Further-
more, in September 2004, the United States co-sponsored Security Coun-
cil Resolution 1559 with France. This requested Syria, without actually
naming it, to withdraw its troops from Lebanon, to stop interfering in
Lebanon’s internal affairs and to cease its aid to Hezbollah, also without
specifically naming it. Supporters of the Syrian presence in Lebanon de-

nounced this resolution, but opponents hailed it as the beginning of the
end of Syria’s involvement in Lebanese affairs.
Despite mounting domestic and international pressure for a Syrian
withdrawal from Lebanon, the Syrian government refused to relinquish
its role in Lebanon. On 14 February 2005, a former prime minister of
Lebanon, Rafiq Hariri, an opponent of Syrian involvement in Lebanon’s
affairs, was brutally assassinated, along with an accompanying former
minister, a member of parliament and 18 other people, by a massive
explosion as he drove along the Beirut seafront district. Many Lebanese
were quick to blame the assassination on Syria. Hariri’s relationship with
the post-Hafez al-Assad Syrian regime was, at the time, at its lowest. He
was seen by the new Syrian leadership as an obstacle to its continued in-
fluence in Lebanon. The schism in the relationship between Hariri and
the Syrian leadership reached its climax when Hariri tried to resist Syria’s
pressure to amend the Lebanese constitution to allow the extension of
the term of office of the pro-Syrian president of the Lebanese Republic.
The assassination sparked a series of street protests and organized
demonstrations in Beirut and other cities in Lebanon, as well as among
some of the Lebanese immigrant groups in major cities of the world.
The protestors demanded to know who had planned, ordered and carried
out the assassination. The largest of these demonstrations was held on 14
March 2005. Over 1 million people from all sects, political affiliations and
regions converged on Martyrs Square in Beirut’s city centre, demanding
to know who killed Hariri and requesting Syria to withdraw its troops
from Lebanon. The demonstrations, dubbed the ‘‘Cedar Revolution’’,
captured the interest and concern of the international community and
forced the Syrian-backed Lebanese government to resign and eventually
led to the withdrawal, in April 2005, of Syrian troops and their security
agencies from Lebanon.
The assassination had far-reaching consequences for Syria. It triggered
an international campaign against the Syrian presence in Lebanon. The
United States and France were in the forefront calling for Syrian with-
drawal from the country. At the request of the Security Council, the UN
Secretary-General sent a three-man fact-finding mission to Lebanon with
a mandate to enquire into the causes, circumstances and consequences of
the assassination. The team was led by Ireland’s deputy police commis-
sioner, Peter Fitzgerald. It spent one month in Lebanon investigating
the assassination. The ensuing report concluded that ‘‘the Lebanese secu-
rity services and the Syrian Military Intelligence bear primary responsi-
bility for the lack of security, protection, law and order in Lebanon’’.23
However, the Fitzgerald investigation did not establish the direct culpa-
bility of Syria, although it pinned on it the primary responsibility for the
110 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
political tension that preceded the assassination. The report stated clearly
that ‘‘this atmosphere provided the backdrop for the assassination of Mr.
Hariri’’.24
The Fitzgerald fact-finding mission recommended the establishment of
an international independent investigation team with executive authority
to carry out interrogations to find out who planned, ordered and exe-
cuted the killing of Mr Hariri.25 Based on Fitzgerald’s recommendation
and approval by the Lebanese government, the Security Council, in Res-
olution 1595, established an International Independent Investigation
Commission, headed by the German prosecutor Metlev Mehlis, with the
mandate to ‘‘assist the Lebanese authorities in their investigations of all
aspects of the assassination of Hariri, to help identify perpetrators, spon-
sors, organizers and accomplices’’.26
Investigations by the Commission were conducted in Lebanon and
Syria. As a result, the chiefs of the four security services in Lebanon
were detained and charged with complicity in the planning of the assassi-
nation. The investigation in Syria has not gone that far yet. Nevertheless,
the Commission’s intermediate report on its findings pointed explicitly to
the involvement of Syrian intelligence services, together with their Leba-
nese ‘‘hosts’’, in the assassination of Hariri. It was felt throughout Leba-
non that the UN involvement in the investigation gave the process credi-
bility and reassured the Lebanese that they were not being left to their
fate.
A succession of developments followed the withdrawal of Syrian troops
from Lebanon. Free parliamentary elections were held a month later in
which 60 deputies out of 128 (46 per cent) entered parliament for the first
time. Hariri supporters, spearheaded by his son, won a majority of seats
in parliament. A new government headed by a former minister of finance
and staunch Hariri loyalist was formed. A former prime minister, Gen-
eral Michael Aoun, a dedicated foe of Syria, returned to Lebanon from
his 15-year forced exile in France and was elected to parliament. The
imprisoned leader of the Lebanese Forces militia was pardoned and re-
leased from prison. Yet these developments failed to restore law and
order in the country. On the contrary, the security situation deteriorated
dramatically. Several bomb explosions in Beirut, caused by as yet un-
known perpetrators, have killed innocent victims, including mainly anti-
Syrian spokespeople, and instilled fear in Lebanese society.
Following these developments, the international community, spear-
headed by the United States and France, pooled its resources to help
Lebanon reconstitute itself and revitalize its security and political system
without Syrian intervention, for the first time in 29 years. To some Leba-
nese politicians this change represented a switch from Syrian tutelage to
Western custody. Lebanon was drawn incrementally away from the Syr-
ian sphere of influence into the US-dominated international system via

the UN order.
However, the UN role was not totally passive or reflexive. The Security
Council adopted four resolutions in support of Lebanon’s freedom, integ-
rity and political independence: 1559 (2004), 1595 (2005), 1636 (2005)
and 1644 (2005). Moreover, the Secretary-General commissioned three
missions to Lebanon to monitor progress in the implementation of these
resolutions.27
Conclusion
The Iraq crisis changed the political landscape in the region in four differ-
ent ways. First, it brought US military might and political influence to the
heart of the Middle East. Second, it provided the United States with an
opportunity to promote and spread democracy in the region, beginning
with Iraq. Third, it aided the emergence of a new regional order in which
power and influence were redistributed among the states of the region in
a way that allowed Lebanon to opt out of Syrian domination, though at a
high cost. Fourth, Syria’s position in the power hierarchy of the Middle
East was significantly diminished, mainly owing to its opposition to the
US-led invasion of Iraq (unlike in the previous Gulf war) and its loss of
influence in Lebanon.
The high-cost US intervention in Iraq has revealed not so much US
power as its limits. Peace, stability and democracy in Iraq and beyond
have not happened yet. The dilemma facing the United States is best por-
trayed by Henry Kissinger: ‘‘what is new about the emerging world order
is that, for the first time, the United States can neither withdraw from the
world nor dominate it.’’28
Notes
1. Following the conclusion of the Gulf war in 1991, UN Security Council Resolution
687 of 3 April 1991 directed Saddam Hussein to destroy his chemical and biological
weapons and all equipment for developing nuclear capabilities, and to permit UN/
IAEA inspection teams to monitor, verify and destroy all WMD. The inspection process
was terminated in 1998. In November 2002, Iraq submitted to a more intrusive inspec-
tion regime stipulated by Security Council Resolution 1441, dated 8 November 2002,
and carried out by the United Nations Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commis-
sion. A month later, Iraq submitted its report on the destruction of its WMD in a
12,000-page document. The United States rejected the report and tried to obtain from
the Security Council a fresh resolution authorizing enforcement action against Iraq.
The Security Council was unwilling to grant such authorization. The United States, to-
gether with the United Kingdom and a few other countries, launched Operation Iraqi
112 LATIF ABUL-HUSN
Freedom on 20 March 2003. It took only three weeks to topple Saddam’s regime and
occupy the country. The United States installed its own inspection team (the US Survey
Group), which consisted of 1,500 inspectors working independently from the UN/IAEA
team.
2. Jessica Mathews, ‘‘What Happened in Iraq: The Success Story of the United Nations
Inspection’’, a keynote address at the International Peace Academy Conference,
5 March 2004.
3. Dan Morgan and David B. Ottaway, ‘‘In Iraq War Scenario, Oil Is Key Issue’’, Wash-
ington Post, 15 September 2002.
4. Geoff Simons, Future Iraq: U.S. Policy in Reshaping the Middle East (London: Saqi
Books, 2003), pp. 313–317.
5. Ibid., pp. 255–267.
6. Ivo H. Daalder and James M. Lindsay, America Unbound: The Bush Revolution in
Foreign Policy (Washington DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2003), p. 13.
7. David Frum and Richard Pearl, An End to Evil: How to Win the War on Terror (New
York: Random House, 2003), p. 235.
8. Ibid., p. 271.
9. Clyde Prestowitz, Rogue Nations: American Unilateralism and the Failure of Good
Intentions (New York: Basic Books, 2003), p. 273.
10. For a detailed analysis of the causes of failure of these missions, see Boutros-Boutros
Ghali, The Unvanquished: A U.S.-U.N. Saga (New York: Random House, 1999).
11. United Nations Secretary-General, An Agenda for Peace – Preventive Diplomacy,
Peacemaking and Peacekeeping (New York: United Nations, 1992).
12. ‘‘Searching for an Exit’’, The Age (Melbourne), 10 April 2004.
13. Noam Chomsky, Hegemony or Survival: America’s Quest for Global Dominance (New
York: Metropolitan Books, 2003), p. 142.
14. New York Times, 19 February 2003.
15. League of Arab States, Final Communiqué of the Summit Meeting, Tunisia, 16–17 May
2004.
16. Frum and Pearl, An End to Evil, p. 272.
17. United Nations Security Council Resolution 487 of 1981.
18. Bruce Russett, Grasping for the Democratic Peace: Principles for a Post-Cold War Order
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995), p. 86.
19. Rupert Cornwell, ‘‘U.S. Angers Allies with New Middle East Plan’’, Independent.co.uk,
28 February 2004.
20. League of Arab States, Final Communiqué.
21. Poland was an exception in that the main engine of political transformation in Poland
was the leadership of Lech Walesa and his trade union, Solidarity, combined with the
help of the Church, not civil society organizations.
22. Michael Young, ‘‘Defend Lebanon’s Consociational System’’, The Daily Star (Beirut),
30 December 2003.
23. Peter Fitzgerald, Report of the Fact-Finding Mission to Lebanon Inquiring into the
Causes, Circumstances and Consequences of the Assassination of Former Prime Minister,
Rafik Hariri, 25 February–24 March 2005, p. 2.
24. Ibid., p. 20.
25. Ibid.
26. Security Council Resolution 1595, dated 7 April 2005.
27. Security Council Resolution 1559, dated 2 September 2004, calls for the ‘‘strict respect
of the sovereignty, territorial integrity, unity and political independence of Lebanon
under the sole and exclusive authority of the Government of Lebanon throughout Leb-
anon’’. It calls also for the withdrawal of all foreign forces from Lebanon and the dis-
banding and disarming of the Lebanese and non-Lebanese militias. Resolution 1595 of 7
April 2005 establishes an International Independent Investigation Commission to assist
the Lebanese authorities in their investigation of the assassination of former Prime Min-
ister Rafiq Hariri in Beirut on 14 February 2005. Resolution 1636 of 31 October 2005
endorses the Commission’s intermediate report and insists that Syria ‘‘not interfere in
Lebanese domestic affairs . . . [and] refrain from any attempt aimed at destabilizing Leb-
anon’’. This resolution was adopted under Chapter VII of the UN Charter. Resolution
1644 demands that Syria respond ‘‘unambiguously’’ to the Commission’s investigation
and ‘‘implement without delay any future [relevant] request of the UN International
Independent Commission’’. It further extends the probe for an additional six months,
and authorizes the Commission to extend its technical assistance to the Lebanese au-
thorities in their investigations of terrorist acts that followed Hariri’s assassination.
The Secretary-General mandated three senior UN envoys to deal with the evolving
Lebanese–Syrian conflict: Geir Pedersen, his Personal Representative for Lebanon;
Terje Roed-Larsen, his representative for compliance with Security Council Resolution
1595; and Alvero de Soto, the UN Special Coordinator for the Middle East peace
process.
28. Henry Kissinger, ‘‘The New World Order’’, in Chester A. Crocker and Fen Osler
Hampson with Pamela Aall, eds, Managing Global Chaos: Sources of and Responses to
International Conflict (Washington DC: United States Institute for Peace, 1996), p. 174.
7
A Turkish perspective
Ayla Göl
Introduction
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the United States has become not
only a supreme power as a result of its unchallenged military, economic
and cultural dominance but also an arrogant power set upon redesigning
the world according to its own neoconservative image. The end of the
Cold War changed the tacit agreement between the two superpowers on
spheres of influence in the Balkans, Central Asia, the Caucasus and the
Middle East, which brought new structural and normative challenges
to global and regional orders. Establishing order in the post–Cold War
Middle East remains the most challenging task for the international com-
munity, which was misinformed about two issues. There were claims, on
the one hand, about the existence of weapons of mass destruction
(WMD) in Iraq and, on the other, about an assumed link between the
Iraqi government and al-Qaeda. However, the overthrow of Saddam
Hussein’s regime was not based on an international norm of humanitar-
ian intervention. Even before the UN observers declared in their final
report in October 2004 that there were no WMD, many scholars had
questioned the legality and legitimacy of the war in Iraq, as David
Krieger, Ramesh Thakur and Nicholas Wheeler discuss in this volume.
The 1991 Gulf war was the first example of a new world disorder in the
Middle East, which put Iraq on the agenda of the post–Cold War era.
Developments in northern Iraq in the 1990s left Turkey as one of the
114
A TURKISH PERSPECTIVE 115
key countries in the region. It had mixed and somewhat conflicting inter-
ests and had to balance its US alignment and Middle Eastern policies.
Thus, the main arguments of this chapter are threefold: to examine to
what extent Turkey’s Middle Eastern policies converge with the emerg-
ing US-dominated world order; to explain why Ankara’s rapprochement
with Iran and Syria took shape around the Kurdish issue independently
from Washington’s regional policies; and to discuss how Turkey’s bid
to achieve European Union (EU) membership influenced its policies to-
wards the Middle East. After examining the structure of world order and
the US hegemony in relation to the ‘‘Iraq crisis’’, I explain why Turkish
and American interests diverged on the future of Kurds in northern
Iraq, the rise of Islamism and terrorism, and cooperation with Iraq’s
neighbours – Syria and Iran. I then focus on the European Union’s em-
phasis on the new unconventional security challenges as cross-border is-
sues and the importance of trans-regional cooperation between Europe
and the Middle East. Lastly I critically explore the new dimensions of
the search for world order through a transition to democracy in the
Muslim world, beginning with Iraq in the Middle East. In particular, the
legitimacy of a ‘‘so-called’’ broader Middle East initiative is questioned,
by comparing it with the Turkish experience of nation-building and the
case of Afghanistan.
The US hegemony and world order
When President George W. Bush declared war against Iraq as the central
front of the US war on terrorism there was no question in his mind that
Saddam Hussein had links to al-Qaeda and possessed WMD. No evi-
dence of WMD was found by the UN inspectors nor has the link between
al-Qaeda and the Baghdad regime been proven since the removal of
Saddam Hussein from power. The Bush administration dismissed the im-
portance of international legitimacy based on the UN observers’ reports
and the UN Security Council’s resolutions and acted unilaterally accord-
ing to its own interests.
From the outset there were strong anti-war campaigns warning that the
US-led occupation of Iraq would bring a long period of chronic instabil-
ity. But Washington claimed that changing Saddam Hussein’s authoritar-
ian regime would bring a transition to democracy with a ‘‘domino effect’’
in the Middle East. There was no forward planning about who the US-led
coalition would transfer power, authority and sovereignty to after remov-
ing Saddam. As Bush stated at the beginning of the war, Washington’s
primary concern was to secure Iraqi oil production against sabotage or
116 AYLA GÖL
attacks by Saddam’s forces.1 This concern was perceived as Washington’s

intention to establish long-term military bases in order to exploit Iraq’s
vast energy resources rather than to bring democracy to the Iraqi people.
With the US-led occupation of Iraq in March 2003 and its aftermath,
the Bush administration lost its legitimacy and credibility in the post-
Cold War order. The human rights scandals in the Abu Ghraib prison in
April 2004 forced the Americans to see their powerful image from the
perspective of Islamic public opinion. The scandals proved to the Ameri-
can public and the international community that the war in Iraq was
wrong and questioned the legitimacy of Washington’s engagement in the
Middle East. More importantly, they destroyed the last element of trust
in the US commitment to build democracy in the Middle East as a model
for socio-economic and political transformation in the Islamic world. As
Amin Saikal argues in Chapter 11, Muslims have a very poor image of
the United States as a power dedicated to democratic and human rights
causes. In reality, US ‘‘domino democratization’’ has fallen in the oppo-
site direction (‘‘domino terrorization’’) of anti-American sentiment and
distrust in the region, as we are witnessing now. The US invasion of Iraq
created a power vacuum that became the lure for fundamentalist terror-
ists in the region.
Why did the Turkish parliament reject Turkey’s involvement?
Turkey had been a trusted strategic partner of US administrations in

the region ever since it became a member of the North Atlantic Treaty
Organization (NATO) in 1952. On 1 March 2003, when the Turkish par-
liament voted not to permit the deployment of US troops from Turkish
territory to attack Iraq, the trust between the two states was damaged.
Ironically, this time democracy was at work in its peculiar Turkish style.
The elected members of the parliament acted in accordance with public
opinion against the closed-door policies of Ankara and Washington. An
overwhelming 94 per cent of Turkish people, as well as the military and
the Turkish president, Ahmed Sezer, opposed the US-led war in Iraq on
the following grounds.2 First, the Turkish military élite was concerned
about the possibility of Iraq’s disintegration. A perceived US failure in
rebuilding a united Iraq or a religiously provoked civil war in Baghdad
would bring instability to Turkish borders. Second, the Turkish president
based his opposition on the legal grounds that the Turkish constitution
required international legitimacy. Third, Turkey faced a series of Kurdish
refugee flows and serious economic losses after 1991. Some members
of the government, including Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan,
thought that these problems would reoccur.3 Fourth, the Turkish public
expressed Islamic solidarity with the innocent Iraqi people and felt
deeply insulted by the caricaturized image of Turks as greedy oriental

bazaar dealers trying to profit from the situation.
Despite continuing opposition, US pressure via economic deals forced
the Turkish parliament to authorize the government to send troops to
Iraq in October 2003. In order to justify the Turkish involvement to the
public, both the government and the military emphasized Turkey’s duty
on humanitarian grounds to protect the rights of Turkmen and to help
the Iraqi people, though their real concern was not to be left out at the
negotiating table when Iraq’s future was discussed. The new decision
was not welcomed by the Iraqi Governing Council (IGC) and in particu-
lar by Kurds in northern Iraq. The IGC’s opposition, in fact, enforced the
image of the new Turkish government of the Justice and Development
Party (Adalet ve Kalklnma Partisi – AKP) as the first Islamic party in
power, in the eyes of domestic public opinion, when it suspended its reluc-
tant decision to join a Western coalition against its Muslim neighbour.4
Two weeks later, Turkish society was shaken by terrorist attacks in Is-
tanbul on 15 and 20 November.5 For Turks, the attacks in Istanbul had a
specific meaning in terms of punishing their adherence to secularism and
the Turkish state’s Western orientation, which manifested itself as a stra-
tegic partnership with the United States after World War II and a desire
to join the European Union since 1963. Turkey’s place in the interna-
tional system has been unresolved since the modernization policies of
the Ottoman Empire. On the one hand, owing to its Muslim population,
Turkey has never been identified as a European state; on the other,
Turkish modernity and secularism have been criticized by Muslim coun-
tries since the abolition of the Caliphate in 1924. The Abu Hafz al-Masri
Brigades, a group linked to al-Qaeda, claimed responsibility for the at-
tacks and accused Turkey of joining ‘‘the Crusader Atlantic alliance’’
against the Islamic world. A statement on the Al Mujahidoun website
warned Turkey to withdraw its soldiers from Afghanistan, to stop rela-
tions with Israel and not to join the US-led occupation of Iraq.6
Both the opposition from the IGS to Turkey’s involvement and the
terrorist attacks in Istanbul draw attention to Turkey’s role in the disor-
der in the aftermath of 11 September 2001. In Washington, some policy
makers argued that the attacks in Istanbul reinforced Turkey’s relevance
as a ‘‘model’’ of liberal democracy and moderate Islam for other Muslim
countries. The US government has always emphasized the importance of
a democratic and secular Turkey and has rarely criticized the military
coups and the role of the Turkish army in politics. Contradictorily, the
reaction against the American desire to promote Turkey as a ‘‘model’’
came from Turkish military circles whereas some among the right-wing
and pro-American élite supported the idea. The deputy chief of the Turk-
ish General Staff, Ilker Başbuğ, stated that Turkey had no intention of
118 AYLA GÖL
being a ‘‘model’’ for moderate Islam as promoted by the US administra-

tion. He argued that the fundamental characteristics of the Turkish Re-
public were defined in the 1982 constitution: it was to be a democratic,
secular and social state governed by the rule of law, which implies an in-
compatibility with Islam.7 Turkish military and secular circles are scepti-
cal about what ‘‘moderate’’ Islam means in relation to ‘‘secularism’’ and
about Turkey’s role in the new US broader Middle East initiative, as I
will discuss later.8 Despite US support for Turkey’s EU membership
and the Baku–Tbilisi–Ceyhan pipeline project to transfer Caspian oil to
world markets via Turkey, clear signals of a growing tension between
Ankara and Washington emerged after the 1991 Gulf war.9 The next
section explains why Turkish regional interests diverged from those of
Washington on the following issues: the Kurdish issue, the rise of Islam-
ism and the war on terror, and relations with Iran and Syria.
Divergence of interests between Ankara and Washington

in the Middle East
Turkey’s relations with the Middle Eastern states have been determined
and constrained by two threat perceptions. The first challenge was the
rise of Kurdish nationalism, perceived as a threat to the Kemalist state
ideology, which aims to preserve Turkish national unity through territo-
rial integrity. The second was the growth of ‘‘irtica’’ (reactionary Islam),
which poses a threat to the secular character of the Turkish state. Sub-
sequently, when terrorist activities became the modus operandi of both
Kurdish nationalism and Islamic fundamentalism, this created an idée
fixe of a Turkish security paradox that has been shaping Turkish domes-
tic and foreign policies since the 1980s.
The future of Kurds in northern Iraq
After the 1991 Gulf war, preventing the establishment of an independent

Kurdish state in northern Iraq became a major foreign policy aim for
Turkey. American and Turkish security interests first diverged on this
issue: for the United States, Saddam Hussein’s regime remained the
primary threat to Washington’s interests in the region; for Turkey, the es-
tablishment of a federal or even an autonomous region for the Kurds was
perceived as a real threat to its national security.
The Kurdish issue has both regional and international dimensions that
contribute to the complex nature of the Middle Eastern state system.
After the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in 1918, Kurds became the
largest stateless nation, occupying the borders of Turkey, Iraq, Syria and
Iran. Many scholars argued that an independent Kurdish state was un-
likely unless there was a major disruption of the existing state system in
the region. The overthrow of Saddam Hussein radically upset the re-
gional dynamics and could have given Turkey the opportunity of inde-
pendent military intervention in Iraq in order to determine the future of
Iraqi Kurds. American politicians and the international media speculated
on this possibility, given the fact that Turkish military forces had declared
that the future establishment of a Kurdish state or federal region that in-
cluded Mosul and Kirkuk would be a casus belli.
Between 1991 and 2003, the Kurds were very close to establishing an
independent state in Iraq or, at least, an autonomous entity federated
with the rest of the country. A de facto Iraqi Kurdish state was estab-
lished when elections were held in May 1992. The Kurdistan National
Assembly (KNA) and the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) were
created within which the Kurdish Democratic Party (KDP), led by Masud
Barzani, and the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK), led by Jalal Tala-
bani, represented the Kurds. This Kurdish entity was protected by the so-
called ‘‘Kurdish safe haven’’ and the ‘‘no-fly zone’’ in northern Iraq
under Operation Provide Comfort (OPC), which was intended to provide
security and humanitarian assistance to refugee camps along the Turkish
border. The safe haven was supported economically by the UN Oil-for-
Food programme until the removal of Saddam Hussein.10
Turkey has accordingly been evaluating and adjusting its foreign policy
goals since the Gulf war. In the first place, Turkey consistently opposed
the creation of an independent Kurdish state or an Iraqi federal unity.
In particular, it did not want the oil-rich cities of Mosul and Kirkuk to
be ceded to an autonomous Kurdish federal unit. According to Ankara,
an independent Kurdish state benefiting from the economic income of
these cities’ oil revenues had the potential to be a prosperous example
for Turkey’s Kurds. Secondly, if a permanent Kurdistan federal region
were created, Ankara was concerned that the rights of Turkmen should
be protected by the establishment of a Turkmen federal unit to include
the cities of Mosul and Kirkuk.
Furthermore, Ankara implemented a contradictory policy that the Iraqi
Kurdish authority had to be kept strong enough to be able to prevent
activities by the PKK (Partia Karkaren Kurdistan – Kurdistan Workers’
Party) in the region while at the same time kept weak enough to prevent
the creation of an independent Kurdish state.11 Turkish military forces
did not hesitate to cross the Iraqi border and enter the no-fly zone in
1995 and 1997 in order to attack the PKK camps in northern Iraq.
Turkey also had to come to a tacit agreement with the United States
that Washington would not criticize Turkish military incursions if Ankara
permitted the continuation of Operation Northern Watch (as OPC was
120 AYLA GÖL
renamed in 1997), despite the fact that the Turkish military élite regarded
the OPC/ONW with suspicion as part of US plans to establish a Kurdish
state at the expense of Turkey’s territorial integrity.12
Finally, Ankara was also sceptical about Washington’s reluctance to
clamp down on the PKK. Despite the arrest of PKK leader Abdullah
Öcalan in February 1999, the PKK/KADEK is still perceived as a threat
to Turkish national security. The second conflict between Ankara and
Washington was a result of this different threat perception, and of the
definition of terrorist organizations and the war on terror.
The rise of Islamism and terrorism
According to Ankara, the US government clearly differentiates al-Qaeda

and Ansar al-Islam from other terrorist organizations that are perceived
as a threat to the national interests of other states under the rubric of the
global war on terror. The Turkish state has been suffering from terrorism
through bomb attacks by Islamic groups against the secular Turkish élite
since the 1980s. In the early 1990s, a new terrorist group, the Turkish
Hizbullah, particularly targeted the Kurdish cities of south-eastern Tur-
key and killed PKK supporters. The government remained silent in the
face of accusations that there were no official investigations and that
its security forces were making use of terrorist organizations such as the
Turkish Hizbullah and IBDA-C as counter-terrorist groups.13 When the
leaders of the Turkish Hizbullah were captured in a series of security op-
erations in January 2000, it was stated that the goal of this terrorist orga-
nization was to introduce an Islamic state based on the Iranian model.14
Whereas the relationship between Kurdish terrorism, Islamism and
counter-state policies had been criticized in Turkish internal affairs, it
was interpreted differently in Turkey’s relations with the United States.
For the Turkish military and political élites, Washington’s war on terror
seemed to be based on a double standard, which ignored Turkish inter-
ests. For Ankara, the overlap between the Kurdish nationalists and Is-
lamists was in the use of terrorism that had cross-border dimensions. For
the United States, its war on terrorism was linked to the ‘‘axis of evil’’,
which had to be combated in order to prevent the provision of WMD to
terrorists. After Iraq, North Korea and Iran would be next in line to be
dealt with to make the world more secure. Clearly, US hegemonic de-
signs would not coincide with Turkish national and regional interests.
Ankara was concerned that the military intervention in Iraq should not
be extended to Iran and Syria, as implied in US policy makers’ indecisive
statements.
This gave rise to the third conflict of interest between Ankara and
Washington in the US-led world order. Turkey aimed to adopt a co-
operative approach to its neighbours, determined by the divergence of its

interests from those of the United States as regards the future of Iraqi
Kurds and the rise of Islamic terrorism. Syria and Iran shared the Turkish
fear of an independent Kurdish state at the cost of rearranging their ter-
ritorial borders and the possibility of long-term US military establishment
in the region, and this led to a new rapprochement between these three
states. The development of Ankara’s relations with Tehran and Damascus
was the cause of the third conflict of interests between the Turkish and US
governments.
The Turkish rapprochement with Syria and Iran
Traditionally, Syria and Iran were perceived as enemies by Ankara for

historical and ideological reasons. Turkey accused Syria of giving active
support to separatist PKK activities and likewise Iran of supporting Is-
lamic fundamentalist groups since the 1980s. In the early 1990s, Turkey
and Iran represented two contradictory models for post-Soviet republics
in Central Asia. In the mid-1990s, the rivalry between the two states in-
tensified over the transportation of Caspian, and particularly Azerbaijani,
oil resources. Therefore, the evolution of relations from conflict to coop-
eration between the three states was difficult and experienced a series of
crises between 1993 and 2003.
The first sign of a rapprochement between Ankara and Damascus was
in 1993 when both sides signed a security protocol regarding the PKK
and other terrorist organizations that were against Turkish national inter-
ests. For the first time, Syria recognized the PKK as a terrorist organiza-
tion and promised not to provide a base for its activities. Two years later,
in August 1995, the Turkish, Iranian and Syrian foreign ministers came
together and expressed their displeasure at not being invited to attend
the Kurdish Conference held on 23 July in Paris, although officials from
the United Kingdom, France and the United States attended. When the
US government brought the KDP and PUK leaders, Barzani and Tala-
bani, together in Washington in September 1998 to promote a commit-
ment to a federative Kurdish political entity in Iraq, Ankara felt that
it had been left out of the final decisions in its own backyard. Conse-
quently, Ankara’s decision to establish good neighbourly relations with
Damascus and Tehran was shaped by the Kurdish issue and implemented
independently from US policies.
A major crisis occurred between Turkey and Syria in November 1998
when Ankara threatened Damascus with military intervention if the PKK
leader, Öcalan, was not expelled. Interestingly enough, after the presi-
dential election victory of the moderate Khatami in 1997, it was Iran
that contributed to mediation of the Turkish–Syrian crisis. The Iranian
122 AYLA GÖL
foreign minister, Kamal Kharrazi, reportedly brought initial word to An-

kara that Damascus was ready to end its support for the PKK and expel
Öcalan.15 The capture of Öcalan in February 1999 was a turning point in
Turkish relations with Syria, which gained a new momentum with Bashar
al-Asad’s accession in 2000. Meanwhile, the extension of EU candidate
status to Turkey in December 1999 by the Helsinki European Council
had important impacts on Turkish relations with Syria and Iran. Ankara
favoured cooperation with its neighbours because it began to regard se-
curity as a cross-border issue. Thus, one of the main arguments of this
chapter is that Turkey prioritized its relations with Europe over its rela-
tions with the United States. The Turkish decision to avoid involvement
in any conflict in the Middle East and in the military intervention in Iraq
reflects Ankara’s determination to fulfil its EU candidacy expectations.
The direct impact of relations between Turkey and the European Union
on Ankara’s foreign affairs was the change in policy from conflict and
containment to active cooperative engagement in the region.
Cross-border issues and trans-regional cooperation between

Europe and the Middle East
The European Union has been critical of Turkey’s proximity to the

Middle East and regarded it as a source of instability at the margins of
Europe. Neither policy makers nor public opinion in Europe want the
European Union to have a real border with the Middle East, where it
might become directly involved in conflicts in Syria, Iraq and Iran. This
perception was intensified by the unconventional security challenges
arising from the post-9/11 disorder. Both European and Middle Eastern
states are aware of the relationship between terrorism and the black mar-
ket economy in Europe, Central Asia and the Middle East, and Turkey
is at the centre of this trans-regional link. Turkey’s priority of initiating
regional cooperation with the particular aim of controlling these prob-
lems is a reflection of Turkish–EU relations. In the past, Turkey followed
a ‘‘de-Middle Easternization’’ of its policies and identity and favoured
‘‘Europeanization’’ in order to be regarded as part of the West.16 How-
ever, post–Cold War and post-9/11 conditions have brought new chal-
lenges to regional dynamics both in Europe and in the Middle East.
Unconventional security challenges
Turkey shares EU concerns that terrorism, drug trafficking, money laun-

dering and non-narcotics smuggling are cross-border issues and that
trans-regional cooperation is necessary to fight them. Whereas Turkey is

seen as a ‘‘danger zone’’ from EU members’ perspective, an unstable
Iraq is considered to be the real danger for the Turkish, Syrian and Ira-
nian governments. The latter perceive northern Iraq, where the black
market economy is in operation, as a crucial transfer link to Europe
through Turkey and to Central Asia through Iran.17 Although the EU
perspective forces Turkey to be more actively engaged in addressing
these issues in a wider regional context, its ‘‘national security paradox’’
establishes a link to the economic dimension of the Kurdish issue within
this framework. The economic development of the Kurdish regions of
Turkey, Syria, Iran and Iraq would help to improve the basic living con-
ditions of Kurds and reduce their socio-political alienation from central
governments. Such development could also attract foreign and interna-
tional investors’ attention not only to the oil- and gas-rich Iraqi Kurdistan
but also to underdeveloped areas in the region where the Kurds are
strongly represented.
The exchange of high-level official visits between Ankara, Damascus
and Tehran in January and February 2004 indicated the beginning of
a rapprochement based on common economic and political interests
among Iraq’s neighbours. Ankara was assured by Damascus and Tehran
that they would not permit any terrorist activities against the Turkish
state’s security in their territories.18 The Turkish foreign minister, Abdul-
lah Gül, stated that ongoing conflicts and instability were major obstacles
to the economic development of the Middle East and that regional coop-
eration could be developed to overcome such difficulties. Turkey’s mem-
bership in the European Union would be beneficial to both Europe and
the Middle East. According to Gül, Turkey’s neighbours communicated
to Ankara that its EU membership would increase stability and economic
welfare in the region. Turkey’s membership would also contribute to the
European Union’s role of challenging the US hegemony and establishing
stability in Iraq, as defined in the EU Strategy Document.19 In June 2004,
the European Commission proposed to undertake multilateral action in
Iraq for its immediate future, the post-election period and its medium-
term development, all of which were defined as the new EU strategy for
Iraq. The following three medium-term objectives were suggested: ‘‘the
development of a stable and democratic Iraq; the establishment of an
open, stable, sustainable and diversified market economy; Iraq’s eco-
nomic and political integration into its region and the open international
system.’’20
Ankara also has the potential to ease tensions between its neighbours
and with the United States. In particular, Syria and Iran fear Washing-
ton’s future plans, wondering whether they will be the next front in
the US war on terrorism. Turkey expressed its concern earlier than the
124 AYLA GÖL
United States about the Iranian nuclear programme and Syrian missile
capabilities, as well as their possession of WMD on its borders. The next
section explains how Turkey’s aim to join the European Union influ-
enced Turkish perceptions of its own role in the region. In particular,
the nature of Turkey’s relations changed from conflicting interests to co-
operation and dialogue with regional states.
The European regional order as a model for the Middle East
Despite the high expectation in US circles and among Iraqi Kurds that
Turkey might independently intervene to occupy northern Iraq, Turkish
‘‘military intervention’’ never materialized. Turkish policy makers were
determined not to compromise the 40-year pro-EU policy with an irration-
al military adventure. Rather than using force, Turkey initiated a search
for diplomatic and peaceful solutions. The first summit of the foreign
ministers of Iraq’s neighbours and regional states was held in January
2003, and the fifth summit took place in Kuwait on 15 February 2004, in-
volving Turkish, Egyptian, Jordanian, Saudi, Iraqi and Kuwaiti foreign
ministers. At this summit, Gül came up with a new suggestion that the
Middle Eastern states should follow the example of European unification
and that this intention should be brought to the attention of the Security
Council’s permanent members through the mediation of UN Secretary-
General Kofi Annan.21
Turkey adopted the EU stance on Iraq, which prioritizes the following
five issues: the international community has a major contribution to make
in the shaping of the future of the Iraqi people; the European Union en-
courages the United Nations to play a central role in the process restor-
ing Iraqi sovereignty; the European Union suggests that Iraq’s neigh-
bours should support stability in Iraq and the region; the European
Union reaffirms its own commitment to the political and economic recon-
struction of Iraq and welcomes the participation of international financial
institutions; and, finally, ‘‘as part of the process of regional security and
stability the EU reaffirms its commitments to bring the Israeli-Palestinian
peace process to a successful conclusion through the implementation of
the steps foreseen in the Quartet’s [the European Union, the United
States, the United Nations and Russia] roadmap, keeping within estab-
lished timelines.’’22
The Turkish, Syrian and Iranian foreign ministers reached a common
policy on the future of Iraq as an independent nation-state based on ter-
ritorial integrity and political unity rather than an ethnically or religiously
defined federal unity.23 The three states declared their commitment to a
democratic and stable Iraq on their borders.24 They also clearly echoed
the EU position that the United Nations must play a central role in trans-
ferring full sovereignty to the Iraqi people. Turkey prioritizes the use of
diplomacy in international organizations, such as the Organization of the
Islamic Conference (OIC) and NATO, over unilateral action. The sixth
summit of the foreign ministers of Iraq’s neighbours and regional states
took place within the framework of the thirty-first OIC meeting in Istan-
bul on 14–16 June 2004. The Iraq crisis, the Israeli–Palestinian conflict,
international terrorism and the broader Middle East plan were among
the main issues on the broader agenda of the OIC, and the Turkish pres-
ident emphasized the importance of democracy for regional development
and stability.25 Furthermore, at NATO’s Istanbul Summit on 28–29 June,
NATO members agreed on three ‘‘soft power’’ initiatives in order to
have a greater presence in the region (as Fred Tanner explains further
in Chapter 20).
According to a Turkish foreign ministry statement, Turkey’s Iraq pol-
icy is based on the idea that ‘‘the independence, territorial integrity, sov-
ereignty and national unity of Iraq’’ should be preserved through interna-
tionally recognized norms. Moreover, the determination of Iraq’s future
is up to the free will of the Iraqi people and Iraq’s natural resources
must belong to them.26 Turkish decision makers are probably using the
European Union and multilateral forums as a means to justify their
active engagement in the region without sacrificing the US partnership.
Syria and Iran seem to be in accord with these Turkish views in order
to prevent US military intervention in their countries that would further
destabilize the Middle East.
Building democracy and stability in the Middle East
Since the US-led occupation of Iraq, current political and academic de-
bates are focused on whether or not democracy can be imposed by exter-
nal force. At the G-8 summit meeting in Georgia on 9 June 2004, George
W. Bush launched a broader Middle East initiative without actually call-
ing it that.27 This ‘‘initiative’’ aims to promote ‘‘Western-style’’ democ-
racy throughout the Middle East (including non-Arab countries such as
Afghanistan, Iran, Israel, Pakistan and Turkey) and North Africa, en-
courages greater NATO involvement in Iraq and proposes a resolution
to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. Opposition came from President Chirac
of France, who joined the Arab world in deriding the initiative.28
The legitimacy of a so-called broader Middle East initiative
Even before the initiative was launched, there were already strongly crit-
ical voices in Western and Arab countries. The initiative was seen as a
126 AYLA GÖL
priority objective of US domestic policy directed at influencing the US

election in November 2004 and was presented as a major goal of US for-
eign policy and its war on terrorism. President Chirac’s opposition at
the 2004 G-8 summit echoed existing criticisms on three issues. First, the
initiative would be counterproductive if it became another US-dictated
solution that failed to consult and cooperate with regional states and
societies. There is no ready-made formula for democracy that is in-
stantly transposable from one country to another and there is no single
‘‘Western-style’’ democracy. Second, the Palestinian–Israeli conflict had
to be the main concern in a search for democratization and stability in
the region. To clear the path for this, the United States must drop its
absolute support for Israel. Third, the Bush administration’s high expec-
tation that such an initiative could contribute to the transition to democ-
ratization and produce secular, modernized and pro-Western systems was
misleading. Any such attempt would be regarded as the imposition of
Western values on Arabic and Islamic cultures. If the US administration
does not change its position on these three issues, it will certainly be dis-
appointed in its expectations that Iraq will establish a nascent democrati-
zation in the region.
Turkey’s position on the future of the Middle East as part of the US-
determined world order is very clear: internationally recognized norms
must be the basis for facilitating permanent peace and stability in the re-
gion, within which the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is the first obstacle to
be overcome. Turkey, as the one regional state that enjoys the trust and
confidence of both the Palestinians and the Israelis, is willing and ready
to mediate to put the peace process back on track.29 After the beginning
of the Arab–Israeli peace process in 1991, Turkish governments estab-
lished relations with Israel based on strategic and economic interests
without provoking a rupture in Turkey’s relations with the Palestinians.
Although the Turkish–Israeli Security Agreement of 1996 complicated
relations with the Arab states, it now serves Turkey to be a mediator be-
tween the two sides. Syria supports Turkey’s role as a mediator between
Israel and the Arab states.30 Israel has also made it clear to Ankara that
it favours the territorial integrity and political unity of Iraq and values its
relations with Turkey.
Furthermore, Turkish policy makers have argued that US initiatives
that aim to bring democracy and stability to the Middle East must take
into account the political culture of the region and should prescribe grad-
ual and evolutionary change.31 The Turkish experience itself proves
that democratization is a complex and long process, which unfolds differ-
ently in different countries based on specific socio-historical, political and
economic factors. The Turkish case is by no means a ‘‘blueprint’’ or a
‘‘model’’, as presented by the US administration, but it does offer a his-
torical experience from which important lessons can be drawn for Muslim
societies.
The Turkish experience in nation-building
The US administration’s emphasis on democracy and nation-building

misleadingly equates nation-building with state-building. In Iraq, the
issues are primarily about state-building, ranging from security challenges
to the transfer of full sovereignty to a legitimate government. As long
as Islam serves as the source of sovereignty and collective identity, the
relationship between Islam and nation-state-building deserves careful
reconsideration rather than Islam being presented as incompatible with
modern Western values and institutions. This is where the Turkish expe-
rience with nation-state-building becomes crucial for correctly under-
standing this complex process.
As the first Islamic society to experience a democratic transformation,
Turkey has gone through a series of crises, which are to a certain extent
still unresolved and relevant to the current problems in the Islamic world.
There are four major issues. First, the relationship between Islam and
secular nationalism is intriguing: Islam has served as a source of national
integrity in Turkish society despite the attempts of modern state builders
to remove religion from the political discourse. The majority of Turkish
people still describe themselves as Muslims, although in a modern and
Europeanized manner. A second issue is the role of the military in poli-
tics: Turkey had three military coups and the role of the Turkish army as
the guardian of secularism is not an appealing model for Western democ-
ratization. Third, Turkey has a strong state tradition, which is inter-
related with the protection of secularism. The Turkish state synthesized
Islam with secularism in a paradoxical way. Although secularism became
a modernist and ‘‘didactic’’ ideology, which teaches and promotes a mod-
ern way of life, the Turkish state did not renounce Islam, but kept it
under constant review and control.32 Fourth, the tension between the
secular character of the state and the Islamic identity of society in Turkey
leads to serious concerns in the West. It is not surprising that Turkey has
never been regarded as a European state. Turkey’s EU candidate status
has become a saga since Turkey first applied in 1964. Ironically, Turkey
is not considered part of the Arab world either since it abolished the
Caliphate in 1924. However, the Turkish success in constitutional and
parliamentary governance proves that Islam is compatible with Western
democracy and, like any other religion, should not be mystified.
The most important historical lesson to be drawn from the Turkish ex-
perience is that the solutions to these problems were not imposed on
Turkey by external powers. On the contrary, the Turkish people decided
128 AYLA GÖL
on their own future in the face of the imperialist designs of Western

powers at the beginning of the twentieth century.33 It seems that we are
witnessing similar transition processes in Afghanistan and Iraq at the be-
ginning of the twenty-first century. Paradoxically, however, the process of
nation-building is being imposed on them by external powers.
In Afghanistan, after the Taliban regime was overthrown in 2001, the
first national elections took place on 9 November 2004 as prescribed by
the UN Security Council. Amidst allegations of corruption and bribery,
some commentators argued that the Bush administration, the United
Nations and the international community had unnecessarily rushed the
elections when the country was not ready. The key issue was whether
this democratic move would be followed by local and regional parlia-
mentary elections in April 2005. They did take place as planned, but
we still do not know what the country’s future will bring. Both pre- and
post-election developments reveal the sharp contrast between the US-
designed plans and the reality of societal factors and tribal structures.
Turkey actively engaged in the reconstruction of Afghanistan through
multilateral efforts under the international legitimacy of the UN Inter-
national Security Assistance Force (ISAF) and NATO. The major chal-
lenge these organizations had to face was to prevent conflict between
the interim government of President Hamid Karzai, tribal forces and the
war lords, who have their own small armies. The ISAF and NATO forces
were relatively successful in establishing order in Kabul, but they have
not been able to extend this tenuous stability to the rest of Afghanistan.
The United States failed to recognize the existence of the strong tribal
system, which began operating within the US-created power vacuum,
and the fact that the construction of state institutions to provide for the
security and safety of the country would take longer than planned. The
Afghan example demonstrates that the main obstacles to the transition
to democracy and stability are not only the reconstruction of infrastruc-
ture and institutions to improve people’s daily lives in health, education
and employment but also the creation of a national consciousness to
strengthen a people’s unity.34 When the Bush administration decided to
intervene militarily in Iraq, Paul Wolfowitz argued that it would be easier
in Iraq than it had been in Afghanistan.35 How wrong he was.
Since the US-led occupation of Iraq in March 2003, the country has
become a new battlefield between Sunni and Shiite sectarian forces. No-
body knows how many Iraqi civilians have lost their lives – the numbers
range between 30,000 and 100,000 depending on the source. The price of
the transition to democracy seems to be rather high in Iraq.
The transitional period began with the formation of a fully sovereign
Iraqi Interim Government (IIG), which took power on 28 June 2004 in
accordance with the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) Law of Ad-

ministration. The first election took place on 31 January 2005 to establish
the National Assembly, which led to the formation of the Iraqi Transi-
tional Government.36 The IIG had been established on 1 June 2004 and
then was given international legitimacy by the UN Security Council on 8
June 2004. Resolution 1546 looked forward to ‘‘the end of the occupation
and the assumption of full responsibility and authority by a fully sover-
eign and independent Interim Government of Iraq’’, which led to the dis-
solution of the CPA.37
The United States first decided that the interim constitution would be
drafted by a committee, hand-picked by the US-appointed Iraqi Govern-
ing Council (IGC). This decision was challenged by the fatwa of Grand
Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani that any constitution-making committee had to
be elected. Washington conceded to that criticism and called for direct
elections to a constitutional assembly in January 2005. Despite serious
delays to the August 2005 deadline, this newly elected assembly drafted
a constitution that was approved by a public referendum held on 15
October 2005.38 The results of the referendum were announced and
approved by the United Nations on 25 October 2005.39
The main bones of contention in drafting the Iraqi constitution were
the issue of federalism and the role of Islam in legislation. The Sunnis –
the second-largest grouping in Iraq and the dominant group under Sad-
dam Hussein’s regime – do not want federalism, which would break up
Iraq and deprive Sunnis of the country’s oil wealth. The autonomous
Kurdish area in the north and the self-ruled Shiite region in the south
are the oil-rich areas of Iraq. Sunnis had boycotted the election in Janu-
ary 2005, but they realized that this allowed the Shiites and the Kurds to
gain an overwhelming majority and shape the constitution. Three Sunni
parties – the Iraqi Islamic party, the Iraqi National Dialogue and the
General Conference for the People of Iraq – announced that they had
formed an alliance to participate in the parliamentary elections on 15 De-
cember 2005.40 The Shiite-led United Iraqi Alliance (UIA) won the vast
majority of seats in parliament but failed to obtain an absolute majority.
While the main Kurdish Alliance lost few seats, Sunni Arab parties in-
creased their representation in comparison with the January 2005 elec-
tions.41 In February 2006, the UIA voted for Ibrahim al-Jaafari as prime
minister, with the task of forming Iraq’s first independent government
since the removal of Saddam Hussein in 2003. Al-Jaafari’s task is a very
sensitive and difficult one in view of the need to maintain the balance
between the Shiite, Sunni and Kurdish factions in order to stabilize the
country. The existing constitution created a weak central government
and caused sectarian tensions among Iraqis. In particular, Sunnis are ex-
130 AYLA GÖL
tremely concerned that federalism would give Shiites and Kurds too
much power as well as control of Iraqi oil resources, and they want to
endorse changes in the Constitution. The tensions between Islamists and
secularists and sectarian factions are the main challenges that the new
government has to resolve, notwithstanding the requirement to promote
democracy and security in the country.42 Iraq’s actual transformation to
democracy began in December 2005 and it will not be an easy process.
The following few years, if not decades, will prove how difficult it will
be, as we know from developments in Afghanistan. The developments
following the US-manoeuvred regime changes in both these countries
demonstrate that the promotion of liberal democracy and nation-building
in Islamic societies is a very complex and difficult task.
Conclusion
Three important conclusions emerge from my analysis in this chapter,

which reflect the Turkish perspective on the future of Iraq, regional sta-
bility and the US unipolar concert. First, the US-led military intervention
in Iraq has resulted in an unstable and insecure Iraqi society, which is po-
tentially dangerous for the whole Middle East. The successful rebuilding
of a viable Iraqi state will depend on gaining international legitimacy and
regional cooperation. The new Iraqi government must obtain interna-
tional legitimacy through the multilateral efforts of the United Nations,
the European Union, NATO and OIC members, as well as Iraq’s neigh-
bours. Such a broad international legitimacy might help to change the
Iraqi people’s cynical perception that the overthrow of Saddam Hussein’s
regime was part of the United States’ hegemonic designs. Second, as in
Afghanistan, the institutional reconstruction of Iraq must be supported
by a nation-building process that appeals to both Sunnis and Shiites.
The Turkish foreign minister, in cooperation with his Syrian and Iranian
counterparts, has expressed Turkey’s preference for a sovereign Iraqi
nation-state rather than an ethnically or religiously defined federal unity.
In the light of Turkey’s candidacy for the European Union, Ankara has
adopted EU policies on the future of Iraq rather than US-determined
policies. Third, the current insurgency in Iraq confirms that the legacy of
anti-imperialism runs very deep in the Middle East and frustration with
the post-intervention chaos can easily turn into ‘‘anti-Western’’ (particu-
larly anti-US and anti-UK) feelings and movements. If the West wants a
secure Middle East and world order, regional peace and stability can
be achieved only by recognizing the innate legitimacy of indigenous
people to determine the future of their own societies without hegemonic
interference.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank and acknowledge the support of the Department

of International Relations, the London School of Economics and Polit-
ical Science and the Department of International Politics, University of
Wales, Aberystwyth. In addition, Martha Mundy, of the Anthropology
Department of the LSE, and Amin Saikal, of the Australian National
University, were very constructive in their criticisms and comments. I am
grateful to Derya Göçer for her efficient research assistance, and also to
Cathy Suzuki for valuable help. Finally, I wish to thank the anonymous
referees for their constructive comments and criticisms.
Notes
1. ‘‘President Bush Discusses the Iraqi Interim Government’’, White House Press Release,
1 June 2004, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/06/20040601-2.htmli (ac-
cessed 8 March 2006).
2. Justus Leicht and Peter Schwarz, ‘‘Turkish Parliament Votes down US War Plans’’,
4 March 2003, hhttp://www.wsws.org/articles/2003/mar2003/turk-m04.shtmli (accessed
8 March 2006).
3. ‘‘Erdoğan Washington Post’a yazdı: Kuzey Irak güvenliğimiz için kritik’’, Milliyet,
21 April 2003, hhttp://www.milliyet.comi.
4. The AKP won the elections in November 2002 with 34.2 per cent of the total votes and
363 of the 550 seats in the Turkish Grand National Assembly. The AKP became the first
non-coalition government for 15 years.
5. On 15 November 2003, bombs exploded in front of two synagogues and then two more
devastating blasts at the British Consulate and the HSBC bank buildings followed on
20 November. ‘‘Duaya Bomba’’, Hürriyet, 16 November 2003; ‘‘El Katil’’, Hürriyet,
21 November 2003.
6. ‘‘Al-Qaida Statement: The Cars of Death Will Not Stop’’, Guardian, 21 November 2003,
p. 4.
7. ‘‘Başbuğ: ABD PKK’ya karşı somut adım atmalı’’, NTVMSNBC, 19 March 2004,
hhttp://www.ntvmsnbc.comi.
8. Hasan Pulur, ‘‘Törpülenmiş Laiklik’’, Milliyet, 8 April 2004.
9. Ayla Göl, ‘‘The Politics of the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan Pipeline: Turkish Foreign Policy to-
wards the Caucasus’’, paper presented at the Association for the Study of Nationalities
9th Annual World Convention, Columbia University, New York, 15–17 April 2004.
10. The creation of no-fly zones, whereby Iraqi planes were not allowed to fly north of the
36th parallel or south of the 32nd parallel, relied on UN Security Council Resolution
688 of 1991. The Oil-for-Food programme was established by US-proposed Resolution
986 in 1997.
11. The PKK was established in 1974 and launched its first terrorist attack in 1984. The
party changed its name to the Kurdistan Freedom and Democracy Congress (KADEK)
in order to disassociate itself from PKK’s terrorist stance. In November 2003, KADEK
was replaced by the Kurdistan People’s Congress (Kontra-Gel) to indicate its new dem-
ocratic character and declared ceasefire. However, Turkish politicians and the media
still refer to this organization as the PKK or the PKK/KADEK.
132 AYLA GÖL
12. Kemal Kirişçi, ‘‘Turkey and the Muslim Middle East’’, in Alan Makovsky and Sabri
Sayari, eds, Turkey’s New World: Changing Dynamics in Turkish Foreign Policy (Wash-
ington DC: Brookings Institution, 2000), p. 45.
13. ‘‘What Is Turkey’s Hizbullah?’’, A Human Rights Watch Backgrounder, 16 February
2000, hhttp://hrw.org/english/docs/2000/02/16/turkey3057.htmi (accessed 2 March 2006);
see also Turkey: Human Rights Watch World Report 2000, hhttp://www.hrw.org/wr2k/i
(accessed 8 March 2006).
14. ‘‘Istanbul Police in Islamist Shoot-out’’, 18 January 2000, hhttp://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/
world/europe/607729.stm> (accessed 8 March 2006).
15. Barçın Yınanç and Seval Çevikcan, ‘‘Harrazi eli boş geldi’’, Milliyet, 10 October 1998.
16. Olivier Roy, ‘‘Turkey – A World Apart, or Europe’s New Frontier?’’ in Olivier Roy,
ed., Turkey Today: A European Country? (London: Anthem Press, 2005), p. 24.
17. Ian O. Lesser, ‘‘Beyond ‘Bridge or Barrier’: Turkey’s Evolving Security Relations with
the West’’, in Makovsky and Sayari, eds, Turkey’s New World, p. 211.
18. ‘‘Hatemi’den güvence: Düşmanlarınız topraklarımızı kullanamaz’’, Milliyet, 11 January
2004; and ‘‘Türkiye-Suriye ilişkisi tırmansı̧ta’’, NTVMSNBC, 6 January 2004.
19. ‘‘Turkey and the Middle East: An Interview with Turkish Foreign Minister Abdullah
Gül’’, Insight Turkey, Vol. 6, No. 1 (2004), p. 29.
20. ‘‘Iraq–EU Relations: A Strategy for the Medium Term’’, European Commission Press
Releases, IP/04/723, 9 June 2004, hhttp://europa.eu.int/rapid/pressReleasesAction.
do?reference=IP/04/723&format=HTML&aged=0&language=en&guiLanguage=eni
(accessed 2 March 2006).
21. ‘‘Ortadoğu Birliği için ilk adım atıldı’’, Milliyet, 16 February 2004.
22. ‘‘Text: EU Declaration on Iraq’’, Guardian, 17 April 2003.
Gül’’, p. 26.
24. ‘‘Ankara-Şam ilişkilerinde yeni dönem’’, NTVMSNBC, 7 January 2004.
25. ‘‘Sezer: Demokratikleşin’’, Milliyet, 15 June 2004.
26. Turkish Ministry of Foreign Affairs, ‘‘Outline: Turkey’s Iraq Policy’’, 21 March 2003,
hhttp://www.iraqwatch.org/government/Turkey/turkey-mfa-iraqpolicy-032103.htmi (ac-
cessed 2 March 2006).
27. ‘‘Bush: Our Middle East Mission Has Just Begun’’, Guardian, 10 June 2004, p. 1.
28. L. Elliot and D. Teather, ‘‘Chirac Derides Push for Democracy’’, Guardian, 10 June
2004, p. 1.
Gül’’, p. 25.
30. Milliyet, 19 February 2004.
Gül’’, p. 29.
32. Ernest Gellner, Muslim Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), p. 68.
33. Ayla Göl, ‘‘The Place of Foreign Policy in the Transition to Modernity: Turkish Policy
towards the South Caucasus, 1918–1920’’, PhD thesis, University of London, London
School of Economics and Political Science, 2000, pp. 269–271.
34. Anatol Lieven, ‘‘Don’t Forget Afghanistan’’, Foreign Policy, No. 137 (July/Aug 2003),
p. 54.
35. Charles V. Pena, ‘‘Iraq: The Wrong War’’, Insight Turkey, Vol. 6, No. 1 (2004), p. 31.
36. ‘‘Coalition Provisional Authority, Law of Administration for the State of Iraq for the
Transitional Period’’, 8 March 2004, hhttp://www.cpa-iraq.orgi.
37. Security Council Resolution 1546 on the situation between Iraq and Kuwait, UN Doc.
S/RES/1546 (2004), 8 June 2004, pp. 1–2, hhttp://daccessdds.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/
N04/381/16/PDF/N0438116.pdf?OpenElementi (accessed 2 March 2006).
38. ‘‘23 Dead as Shia and Sunni Militia Clash after Raid to Free Hostage’’, Guardian,
28 October 2005.
39. Jonathan Steele, ‘‘Iraqi Constitution Yes Vote Approved by UN’’, Guardian, 26 Octo-
ber 2005.
40. Ewen MacAskill, ‘‘Sunnis Form Alliance to Fight Election’’, Guardian, 27 October
2005.
41. ‘‘Iraqi Shias Win Election Victory’’, BBC News, 21 January 2006, hhttp://news.bbc.co.
uk/1/hi/world/middle_east/4630518.stmi (accessed 8 March 2006).
42. Michael Gregory, ‘‘Shi’ite Division May Hamstring Iraq Prime Minister’’, Reuters,
16 February 2006, hhttp://today.reuters.co.uki.
8
Iran’s assessment of the
Iraq crisis and the post-9/11
international order
Anoushiravan Ehteshami
Introduction
At least since the early 1970s Iran has been regarded as an important re-
gional player; prior to that it had managed to accumulate considerable
strategic value as a weighty pawn in the Cold War chessboard that
straddled much of Asia and Europe. But it was the 1979 Islamic revolu-
tion that made Iran stand out on the international scene. After the over-
throw of the Shah by a coalition of Islamist, liberal and radical forces,
Iran emerged as a defiant, fiercely independent, proactively religious,
and non-aligned power. Since then, as James Piscatori has noted, there
has rarely been a period that ‘‘Iran escaped the attention of the world’s
foreign offices, press, and academic experts on the Middle East and Is-
lam’’.1 Dramatic developments in Iran and notable adjustments to its in-
ternational relations since the late 1980s and the end of the bipolar world
have ensured that Iran remains the country to watch and, for other actors
in the international system, a growing force to reckon with. However,
despite its revolutionary zeal and a reputation for non-conformity and
defiance since the revolution, it can be argued that revolutionary Iran
has always been a ‘‘rational actor’’ in the classic realist mould. Even
some of its excesses can be seen as calculated risks or opportunist re-
sponses to difficult situations. Looking back at the post-Khomeini era,
one cannot help but be struck by how ‘‘normal’’, largely non-aggressive
and pragmatic Iran’s foreign policy has been since 1989. The roots of
134
IRAN’S ASSESSMENT OF THE IRAQ CRISIS 135
this transformation in Iran’s international relations must be found in Iran

itself, but it also has much to do with Tehran’s calculations about its
standing in a changed regional and international environment since the
end of the Cold War. So much so, that Iran is now fully engaged in the
international system and is playing the more assertive role expected of a
regional middle power in the Middle East and North Africa.
For centuries, geography has played a key part in informing Iran’s for-
eign policy. An ancient landmass empire on the Eurasian crossroads, the
modern state’s regional ambitions extend to much of West Asia. In Iran’s
case, geography has acted as a single force with two countervailing ten-
dencies. On the one hand, it has facilitated the spread of Persian influ-
ence in Asia, and on the other it has exposed Iran to great power rival-
ries and diplomatic machinations by out of area states. Historically, fears
and perceptions of foreign interference have formed the basis of Iranian
nationalism. Iranian nationalism, furthermore, has for generations been
intertwined with the issue of ensuring Iran’s territorial integrity, which
in turn has created what Fuller calls ‘‘an intensely Irano-centric’’ view of
the world. As he says, in this land ‘‘history itself is in part a product of
classical geopolitical factors’’.2 Geopolitics, therefore, has had, and con-
tinues to have, a special place in Iran’s conception of its role, and as such
must be given a special place in any analysis of Iranian foreign policy.
Iranian perceptions of their environment and historical fears of outside
interference were partly responsible for the evolution of the ‘‘negative
balance’’ doctrine that at times formed the basis of Iran’s pre- and post-
revolution foreign policy.3 The same views have also informed the fierce
struggle in Iranians for independence (esteqlal ) – both political and
economic – from foreign powers. Thus, one of the main battle cries of
the revolution was ‘‘Esteqlal, Azadi: Jomhouri Eslami’’ (Independence,
Freedom: Islamic Republic), purposefully placing independence as the
precondition for the long-cherished goal of freedom. Thus, the attain-
ment of full sovereignty and control over Iran’s destiny has for many de-
cades been both a popular and an élite sentiment.
The drive towards regional supremacy has been a feature of Iranian
foreign policy. Because of its long history and its geography, Iran sees it-
self as uniquely qualified to determine, at the very least, the destiny of
the Gulf sub-region. Furthermore, it sees itself as one of only a handful
of ‘‘natural’’ states in the Middle East, which, by virtue of being an old
and territorially established civilization (based around the notion of
‘‘Iran-zamin’’ or a Greater Iran), can and should have influence beyond
its borders. Mohammad Reza Shah’s long reign was full of evidence of
this tendency in Iranian élite thinking after 1953, particularly in the
1970s.4 Throughout the latter decade Iran strove to become the Gulf
136 ANOUSHIRAVAN EHTESHAMI
region’s premier military power and aimed to become the main pillar of
the Western security system in the Middle East – to resume, as the Shah
himself put it, Iran’s ‘‘historic responsibilities’’.5
Since 1979, where geopolitics has mattered, Iran has added a religious
dimension to its projection of power. Over time, this new factor has
formed an extra layer over the deeply felt territorial nationalism of the
state. Since the revolution, Islamic issues have emerged to influence
Iran’s regional profile and its policies towards many of its neighbours.
Iran’s post-revolution posture has also been affected by what could be
called the geopolitics of Islam. In the first instance, Tehran’s Messianic
Shiism of the early 1980s posed a direct challenge to the regional status
quo and the political integrity of Iran’s Arab neighbours. In making ex-
plicit its demand to speak in the name of Islam, Tehran’s revolutionary
leaders caused noticeable tensions in the country’s relations with Saudi
Arabia and other influential Islamic actors in the Muslim world. Today,
it is again the geopolitics of Islam that is affecting Iran’s world view and
its relations with its neighbours.
At the same time, Iran’s stand vis-à-vis the Soviet occupation of Af-
ghanistan in the 1980s and Moscow’s treatment of its own Muslim popu-
lation added a religious dimension to Iranian–Soviet relations during the
Cold War. Additionally, implicit and explicit support for the growing
number of Islamist movements in Afghanistan and elsewhere in the
Middle East became a fixture of Iranian foreign policy in its inter-state
and sub-state interactions.
In the 1990s, despite a more integrationist and non-ideological foreign
policy, Tehran tried to keep pace with the politicized Islamic groups
in the Arab world and was active in showing support for Hezbollah in
Lebanon, the Front Islamique du Salut (FIS) in Algeria, the Turabi
regime in Sudan, Hamas and Islamic Jihad in Palestine, the Muslim
Brotherhood in Jordan, the al-Nahda party in Tunisia, and the Jihad
group in Egypt. Further afield, Tehran has been quite content to allow
itself to be portrayed as a supporter of Islamist movements of all denomi-
nations (for example, the Islamic MORO movement in the Philippines in
the 1980s and the Bosnian Muslims in the 1990s). One can deduce from
Tehran’s behaviour that the overt use of Islam, or at least of Islamic sym-
bols, remains a feature of the country’s conception of its role. Islam’s
place in Tehran’s formulation of policy and strategic aims has caused se-
rious rifts in – and continues to complicate – its relations with a number
of the Sunni-dominated, largely secular-led, Arab states around it. Iran’s
Islamic revolution and the Iranian leadership’s call for Islamic uprisings
may have found sympathetic ears in many Arab and Muslim societies
in the 1980s, but this call also reinforced Arab élite suspicions of Iranian
intentions and encouraged their cautious policies towards Tehran. The
‘‘blockage’’ really only began clearing towards the end of the 1980s,
thanks to several developments: the end of the Iran–Iraq war, the rise of
a more pragmatic leadership in Iran, the growing importance of oil poli-
tics, the Kuwait crisis, and Iran’s post–Cold War bridge-building regional
strategy. Nonetheless, Iran retains a strong Islamic dimension in its exter-
nal profile. However, it is fully aware of its fairly small international Shi-
ite base compared with the majority Sunnis who populate many of the
Arab and non-Arab states in Asia and North Africa. As such, Tehran
treads carefully in inter-Islamic disputes. Although it branded the Tali-
ban as ‘‘barbaric’’, for example, it did not openly attack Pakistan, Saudi
Arabia and the United Arab Emirates as the Taliban’s key supporters.
Moreover, as the only Muslim country dominated and ruled by the Shiite
minority sect of Islam, Iran plays on the bigger, pan-Islamic issues in its
inter-Islamic relations.
Post–Cold War regional politics: 1990–2001
The end of the Cold War has brought to the fore the importance of the
‘‘three Gs’’ in Iran’s foreign relations: geopolitics, geostrategic instabil-
ities, and globalization. With over a decade of the post–Cold War order
behind us, Iran is still trying to come to terms with the systemic changes
that took place between 1989 and 1991, and in this endeavour is strug-
gling to find its natural place in the increasingly interdependent and glo-
balized international system. For Iran, the 1990s ushered in a new and
highly unpredictable era. Since the late 1980s, Tehran has been com-
pelled to function as much as possible within the new international sys-
tem, which witnessed not only the end of the Cold War and the demise
of the Soviet superpower, but also the emergence of the United States
as the undisputed extra-regional power in the Middle East.6 With ethnic
resurgence becoming the order of the day in the post–Cold War interna-
tional situation and with nationalist movements successfully evolving
from insurgencies to territorial states, concern about Iran’s territorial in-
tegrity has also been heightened. Fear that secessionist movements in
Iran and on its borders could be used by outside powers to destabilize
the country and the regime has struck a chord with Iranian Islamists and
nationalists alike.
At least two schools of thought about the new international system
have prevailed in Iran.7 One school welcomes the changes that have oc-
curred in the international system since 1989. Proponents of the ‘‘posi-
tive’’ school hold that, with the demise of the Soviet Union and with
greater prospects for manoeuvrability as a result of the ending of the
Cold War and the strategic competition between Moscow and Washing-
ton in regions such as the Middle East, Iran could emerge as a more in-
dependent and powerful regional power. In the absence of superpower
pressures, Tehran would be better placed to create a new regional order
in which Iran would hold the balance of power. In this situation, power
derived from a combination of the Islamic revolution, a sound and prag-
matic foreign policy and the country’s hydrocarbon wealth could enhance
Tehran’s ability to influence regional developments more fully and di-
rectly. Tehran should therefore grasp the nettle and adopt a proactive
strategy in the Middle East and in the Asian territories of the former
Soviet Union. To do this successfully, Tehran would need to deepen its
existing regional alliances and create new ones. Proponents of this school
also argue that continuing competition between the United States, the
European Union and Japan over the resources of the Persian Gulf,
Central Asia and Azerbaijan will inevitably generate new rivalries at the
international level, which, with careful planning, Tehran will be able to
exploit at the regional level. In other words, they believe that, although
the old ‘‘negative balance’’ arguments may no longer apply, continuing
rivalries at the international level will, in the medium term, allow Iran to
apply the same model to the new situation, securing independence of
action and enhancing its room for manoeuvre.
The second school views the end of the Cold War and the demise of
the USSR with deep anxiety. The ‘‘negative’’ school worries that Iran
will no longer be able to rely on the tried and tested strategy of the neg-
ative balance between Washington and Moscow, fearing that Iran is be-
ing sidelined. With the superpower competition in effect now over, Iran
has become less valuable strategically to the superpowers. It no longer
has any value to the West in terms of ‘‘containing’’ the Soviet threat to
vital Western interests in the Middle East. Moreover, because there
appear to be no external checks on US power in the Middle East, the
United States will inevitably increase its pressure on regional states such
as Iran that manage to function outside of its sphere of influence, and
perhaps on those with the potential to undermine its vital interests in
the Persian Gulf sub-region and the rest of the Middle East (particularly
in the Arab–Israeli arena). Even in Central Asia and the Caucasus, the
proponents of this school argue, Washington is bent on ‘‘freezing’’ Iran
out. Elements in this school also maintain that it is wrong to assume
that, in the new world order, the hydrocarbon needs of the Western
countries will lead to competition over control of these resources. Far
from competing for control, the West will probably unite to prevent the
monopolization of these resources by any local power unfriendly to the
West.
So, if we are to find a general foreign policy strategy for Tehran in the
post–Cold War era, it would have to be based around the notion of ‘‘both
North and South’’, which Ramazani popularized in 1992.8 On the one

hand, Iranian strategy needs to develop techniques to exploit the growing
gap between the United States and its European allies and Japan over
regional and international economic issues as a way of blunting the US-
imposed sanctions on the country. Tehran’s strategy also seeks to attract
non-US Western capital into the country, in an attempt to draw closer to
Washington’s economic competitors, be they its global strategic partners
or rivals.
Thus, since 1997, wherever possible Tehran has tried hard to mend its
diplomatic and political bridges and fences in order to enhance its econ-
omy and create the conditions for prosperity. Indeed, in many ways Pres-
ident Khatami’s administration has made a virtue of Iran’s economic ills
to argue for more drastic political reforms and the opening up of all sec-
tors of the economy to foreign investment.
Iran and 9/11: Sympathy from above, grief from below
The terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 shocked Iranians as much

as anyone else, and resulted in a strong outpouring of support for the
United States from below and expressions of sympathy from the Iranian
leadership. Within hours of the attacks, in a statement read out on na-
tional television, President Khatami said: ‘‘I condemn the terrorist oper-
ations of hijacking and attacking public places in American cities which
have resulted in the death of a large number of defenseless American
people.’’
More broadly, however, expressions of sympathy were articulated in
narrower terms. A senior cleric, Ayatollah Mohammad Emami-Kashani,
said on 14 September that the attack against America was ‘‘heart-rending
. . . Everyone condemns, denounces and is saddened by it.’’ However, he
added that ‘‘Israel and the usurper Zionist regime are the number one
state terrorists’’. ‘‘They are causing havoc like this . . . America itself, the
White House and the prevalent policy in the United States, most of
which is in the hands of the Zionists – they condone these crimes which
are perpetrated here and there’’.9 Presidential Adviser Mohammad Reza
Tajik, although condemning the terrorist attacks, warned in the same
vein that ‘‘the rightists and the American and Israeli Zionists will take
great advantage of this situation and will attempt to materialize their ob-
jectives and interests’’ in its aftermath.10 Most Iranian officials balanced
their condemnation of the terror attacks with references to the United
States’ regional policies and its apparent condoning of Israel’s aggressive
behaviour. Foreign Minister Kamal Kharrazi was not alone when on 13
September he publicly accused Israel of exploiting the attacks to cause
problems in the Middle East. The pro-Khatami Islamic Iran Participation

Party also openly criticized the Bush administration for ‘‘staunchly sup-
porting the biggest state sponsor of terrorism in the world, Israel’’.11
The national press, particularly the right-leaning publications, adopted
a similarly sceptical line. The English-language Tehran Times chose the
headline ‘‘Paying the Price for Its Blind Support of the Zionist Regime’’
for its post-9/11 front page.12 The daily Kayhan followed suit, saying in
its editorial that the attacks ‘‘were the natural results of countless crimes
which the United States, its Zionist masters, had carried out throughout
the world’’. The managing editor of the prominent conservative newspa-
per Resalat stated in an interview that the ‘‘extent of these attacks shows
that they were masterminded by elements inside the American intelli-
gence and security apparatus’’.13 In a perplexing argument, which was in
fact consistent with the theme of conspiracy theories doing the rounds in
Tehran and other capitals in the region, Taha Hashemi, managing editor
of the conservative Entekhab newspaper in Qum (the Iranian Shiites’
holy city), suggested that ‘‘the transfer of the centre of world attention
from the [Palestinian] occupied territories to America was the objec-
tive pursued by the perpetrators of these attacks and explosions’’.14 The
Tehran-based Association of Muslim Journalists expressed its sympathies
on 18 September, but went on to claim that ‘‘firm evidence’’ existed that
proved that the terrorist attacks ‘‘could not have been designed out of
the US security system and without aid from individuals inside the sys-
tem’’.15 As if on cue, in a report broadcast on 19 September, national
television alluded to the findings of a news report that had claimed that
the thousands of Jews who worked in the World Trade Center ‘‘had all
decided to take a day off on 11 September’’, saying that ‘‘there were no
Jews among those who were killed’’.
Such official responses to 9/11 stood in sharp contrast to the outpouring
of sympathy from civil society and grassroots organizations. One of the
most dramatic signs of public sympathy with the United States was the
minute’s silence held at a World Cup qualifying match on 14 September
in Tehran, which had been preceded by a candlelight vigil in a northern
Tehran public square the previous night. A second candlelight vigil on
the 18th drew an even larger crowd, despite the banning of the event by
the interior ministry. Students, who had always been the backbone of
President Khatami’s reform movement, strongly condemned these acts
of terrorism and proclaimed 9/11 a ‘‘day of horror’’.16 Most strikingly of
all, the Deputy Chief of the Tehran Fire Department publicly declared
his support for his US counterparts and revealed that many of his person-
nel had volunteered to go to New York to help. Tehran’s Mayor Morteza
Alviri and Municipal Council head Mohammad Atrianfar also went pub-
lic with their sympathies and sent a letter to New York’s Rudy Giuliani,
stating that ‘‘Tehran’s citizens express their deep hatred of this ominous
and inhuman move, strongly condemn the culprits and express their sym-
pathy with New Yorkers’’.17 Reformist parliamentarian Ahmad Burqani
became the first official to visit the US Interest Section at the Swiss Em-
bassy in Tehran on the 17th to sign the book of condolences.
To explain the contrast between the two levels of reaction requires us
to focus on the troubled relationship between Tehran and Washington
since 1979 and the Iranian government’s constant fears of active US op-
position to the Islamic regime. Over the years these fears have cemented
and the two sides stand far apart from each other, despite sharing many
strategic concerns such as instability in Afghanistan and Iraq, al-Qaeda
terrorism, narcotics trafficking, and the spread of radical Islam in Central
Asia. Today, the two see each other as regional rivals bent on compro-
mising the other’s standing.
The Iranian people, by contrast, view the United States as an imposing
power that could be used as a partner of reform. There is much affection
for US political and social values in Iran, and the United States is re-
spected for its ability to confront challenges head on. But, having said
that, Iranians also have fears about US action and its ability to destabilize
the geopolitical situation on Iran’s doorstep. Moreover, being largely na-
tionalist in outlook, the people resent any US action that seeks to ‘‘con-
tain’’ Iran or to trim its regional influence. What had been a love–hate
relationship for too long was complicated by 9/11. Although the terror
attacks struck a chord with the humanity of Iranians at all levels, they
failed to ignite a willingness in either Iran or the United States to make
a fresh start. Indeed, the ‘‘axis of evil’’ State of the Union address by
President Bush in January 2002 did much to undo the goodwill generated
by the tragedy of 9/11 and helped to convince Tehran that the United
States intended to capitalize on 9/11 to target Iran, Iraq and North Korea
as the three rogue states to be countered. From the moment (in the sum-
mer of 2002) that regime change in Iraq emerged as a major US foreign
policy objective, Tehran began to see itself in a short queue of regimes to
be targeted by Washington. The start of the war against the Ba’athist re-
gime in Iraq in March 2003 was the signal to Tehran that the containment
strategy of the Clinton era had now given way to active opposition to two
northern Gulf neighbours by the Bush administration.
In sum, Washington had set itself the military aim in the 1990s of iso-
lating Iraq, with the strategic option of overthrowing the Ba’athist re-
gime. But it took a new Republican White House and the events of 11
September 2001 finally to push the United States towards the adoption
of the military option. In normal circumstances Iran would have wel-
comed any effort to remove the Iraqi regime, but Tehran was unprepared
to lend any direct support to the United States’ effort. The reason was
simple and understandable: Iran itself was in the containment zone with
Iraq. Why should it strengthen the isolation of Iraq when that isolation
squeezed Iran as well? As dual containment faded away with the depar-
ture of the Clinton administration, Tehran had hoped that a better
working relationship could be established with the new Republican
White House. Despite some evidence of flexibility on both sides, how-
ever, Iran’s anxiety was again heightened in 2002, when it found itself
portrayed by a new US president as Iraq’s bedfellow, this time in a
new ‘‘axis of evil’’.18 The difference in emphasis was a significant one.
Whereas the containment policy had sought to isolate Tehran and curtail
its regional influence, the new ‘‘axis’’ doctrine more directly targeted spe-
cific ruling regimes as ‘‘evil’’ powers and therefore, Iran calculated, po-
tentially subjected the leadership to direct US pressure.
With the Taliban removed from Afghanistan and Iran’s northern bor-
ders relatively quiet, Iraq would naturally have emerged as the most im-
mediate security concern for Tehran. In the run-up to the war, Tehran
seemed to consider it prudent to keep all its options open and follow a
unilateralist policy on Iraq, declaring its policy to be ‘‘active neutrality’’.
It is interesting that the Iranian foreign minister summarized Tehran’s
position to the Iranian parliament as ‘‘neutral but not indifferent’’.
Iran and the Iraq crisis
Iran and regime change in Iraq
The new Persian year of 1382 started on 21 March 2003 with two over-
whelming pressures influencing every aspect of decision-making in Iran.
The first pressure was a product of the bruising political battles at home,
which had over the previous year acquired a ‘‘civilizational’’ dimension
in terms of a growing clash of values and political outlook between the
country’s two main political factions. The reformist camp’s disenchant-
ment with the conservative establishment had increasingly manifested
itself in their more daring, and sometimes rather far-fetched, demands
for faster introduction of reforms in the economy and an overhaul of the
constitution and the national institutions of power so as to transfer the
locus of decision-making to the elected officers of the republic. As war
clouds gathered over the Persian Gulf in late winter 2003, the battle be-
tween Iran’s main two factions was raging in the corridors of power in the
Majlis (parliament) and the various ministries and between the executive
branch and its supportive Majlis allies and the 12-man Council of Guard-
ians (CG). The Council of Guardians was entrusted by the constitution
with the vetting of candidates for political office, and of every piece of
legislation for compatibility with Islamic law and values, and of course
with the Iranian constitution itself. In Iranian year 1381, the CG had al-
ready refused to approve several pieces of important legislation from the
Majlis, including two pieces legislation proposed by President Khatami
that were designed to increase the authority of the president. The Majlis
had already passed these and was pressuring the CG to approve them
when the domestic political wrangling was overshadowed by concerns
about Iraq and the launch of Operation Iraqi Freedom on the eve of the
Persian new year.
The Iraq war proved to be a mixed blessing for Tehran.19 Although
the Coalition’s action to unseat the Iraqi dictator was effectively remov-
ing a deep and painful thorn from the side of Iran, Tehran was nonethe-
less disturbed to find the United States a powerful resident force in both
Afghanistan and Iraq. Furthermore, the liberation of the Iraqi Shiites
would inevitably directly affect the policy cleavages in Iran’s own unique
Islamic political system. Najaf’s traditional opposition to the mixing of
religion and politics was by February 2004 also providing considerable
intellectual support for those forces in the Iranian power structure who
now openly questioned the prudence of religious-political authority being
monopolized in the hands of the Faqih (the ‘‘Leader’’, the just jurist) and
a small group of his trusted allies in the CG, the judiciary and the security
forces, and the Expediency Council headed by the powerful figure of
the two-term former president, Hashemi Rafsanjani. One of the clerical
members of the CG, Ayatollah Momen, had effectively closed the door
on the reformist camp, which had been hoping to compete in the Febru-
ary 2004 parliamentary elections, by announcing in September 2003 that
none of the signatories of a highly critical letter to Ayatollah Khamenei
(the Leader of the Islamic Republic), complaining about the regime’s re-
pressive tendencies, would be allowed to enter the race for the Seventh
Majlis elections. The signatories of the letter were all reformists, many
of them prominent members of the pro-Khatami camp. In the event,
over 2,500 hopefuls were barred by the CG in January 2004 from stand-
ing as parliamentary candidates, which effectively and emphatically tilted
the balance in favour of the conservative camp. Thus, the conservatives
were able to secure a substantial majority of over 160 seats out of 290
in the Seventh Majlis. Their number in the Sixth Majlis had been fewer
than 60.
The war and its aftermath
As already stated, regime change in Iraq proved to be a bittersweet expe-

rience for Iran. From the sidelines, it saw its bitter enemy in Iraq reduced
to a pulp at the hands of an even bigger potential enemy (the United
States). Tehran’s more immediate concerns lay not with Iraq, therefore,
but with Washington’s intentions toward the Islamic Republic itself. The
view has persisted in Tehran – as indeed it has in Damascus, Riyadh and
even Cairo – that Iran is the next target on the US hit list. Accordingly,
going by past performance, it is to be expected that Tehran would be
fully preparing itself for the possible outbreak of hostilities either with
the United States itself or with its designated allies in the region.
From the perspective that Iran is next, Tehran sensibly regarded Iraq
as its first line of defence and thus looked for ways of preventing the
United States from finding the time or opportunity to secure decisive
control of it. One strategy entailed keeping Washington fully occupied
in Iraq by flexing Tehran’s muscles through Iraq’s large Shiite constitu-
ency. Indeed, since late March 2003 Tehran has been an active player in
the shaping of the Iraqi Shiite debate and its policy alternatives with re-
gard to the election of a sovereign Iraqi government in 2005.20 This has
proved to be a risky strategy for Tehran to follow, however, for three
main reasons.
First, any obvious exercise of influence in Iraq made it easy for Wash-
ington to accuse Iran of meddling in Iraq’s internal affairs and to expose
it to even more US pressure. Second, even if Iran pursued this course,
Iraq’s diverse Shiite population would not necessarily listen to it. Indeed,
Iraq’s Shiites form many communities and speak with several, often com-
peting, voices – sometimes tribal, other times religious. To many Iraqi
Shiites, Najaf, in Iraq, is the seat of Shia learning (and power) – not
Qum, in Iran. At the same time, however, while Saddam Hussein was
busy dismantling the Shiite seat of learning in Iraq, he was in practice
strengthening the Iranian Shiite élite and the place of Qum as the guard-
ian of the Shiite world. Indeed, as many Iraqi Shiite leaders actually took
refuge in Iran it was possible for Iranians to claim that Ayatollah Kho-
meini’s doctrine of political Islam was dominant in Shia Islam and not
the traditional ‘‘quietist’’ school long advocated in Najaf, which firmly
believed in a clear separation between politics and religion and between
religious and political authority. It can be argued that this pendulum may
have begun to swing towards Najaf (and Karbala) again since the fall of
Baghdad. With Iraq free of direct political control by the United States
since June 2004, there is every chance that this process will accelerate,
slowly ‘‘marginalizing’’ Qum. Furthermore, having just shaken off the
shackles of Saddam’s regime, the Iraqi Shiite community is clearly unwill-
ing to take kindly to Iranian dictates. An indiscrete Iranian attempt to
assert authority in Shiite Iraq, therefore, could easily cause both Tehran
and Qum much loss of prestige as well as influence in Shiite communities
in the wider Arab world, suffering a backlash from the very forces it aims
to rally.
Finally, and perhaps most important of all, the liberation of the Iraqi
Shiites is likely to further deepen the policy and doctrinal cleavages in
Iran’s own unique Islamic political system. In a country where both
influence and political power are derived from religion and the religious
hierarchy, where Tehran and Qum stand united only through the mainte-
nance of the Velayat-e Faqih system (rule through a clerical system of
jurisprudence in which a senior cleric acts as the spiritual leader of the
Islamic state), a new and powerful source of religious authority beyond
Tehran’s control, in Grand Ayatollah Sistani for example, could act as a
lightning rod, seriously testing the doctrinal basis of a regime founded on
a fairly narrow interpretation of Shiite thought. The rise of Najaf, there-
fore, will not only challenge Qum and give Arab Shiites a bigger say in
Shia affairs (from Lebanon to Yemen in the Arab world, and from
Azerbaijan to India in the non-Arab Shiite communities), but also raise
considerable intellectual support for those forces in the Iranian power
structure who now openly question the prudence of religious-political au-
thority centralized in the hands of the Faqih (the ‘‘Leader’’, the just ju-
rist) and a small group of his trusted allies in the Guardian Council, the
judiciary and the security forces, and the Expediency Council.
Saddam’s fall has thus directly affected factional rivalries in Iran. Some
elements in Iran have pointed to US behaviour in Iraq – the imposition
of a US political model on a Muslim state, the establishment of military
bases and the control of Iraq’s oil wealth – as well as the expansion of
military facilities in the small Gulf Arab states of Bahrain and Qatar and
the perceived encirclement of Iran through an elaborate network of alli-
ances as justification for encouraging some Iraqi Shiite forces to assist
Tehran in extending its power in Iraq by infiltrating the emerging post-
Ba’athist polity. Tehran does have several potentially powerful allies
among Iraqi Shiites, notably al-Hakim’s Supreme Council for Islamic
Revolution in Iraq (SCIRI) and the well-established Islamist al-Da’wah
Party, both of which are armed and have an influential political role in
the new domestic balance of forces in Iraq. It should also be noted that
Tehran has been heavily engaged in providing military training for SCIRI
as well as the well-established Patriotic Union of Kurdistan and the al-
Da’wah Party. An interesting possibility is that continuing Iranian con-
tacts with SCIRI could have a reverse effect on the Iranian élite and
help in bringing Iraqi Shiite influences into Iran and encourage fresh
thinking on Shiite issues, thereby endangering the semi-unity of the reli-
gious establishment in Iran over matters of state (the future role of the
Faqih, the future role of the clergy in the day-to-day running of the coun-
try, the curtailment of the Faqih’s constitutional powers, relations with
the United States) and national political issues (the distribution of power
between the three branches, social and political reforms, press freedom,
the organization of political parties). As a new leadership emerges in

SCIRI and as its new leaders get embedded in Iraq itself, however, Teh-
ran’s grip over this organization will continue to loosen, particularly since
SCIRI’s leadership has had to strike a series of compromises with the
emerging Iraqi leadership in order to ensure that it will remain a force
in the evolving post-Saddam power structures.
Some in Tehran are deeply worried about developments in Iraq and
the domestic and foreign policy consequences of manipulating Iraq’s
large Shiite constituency for narrow political ends, and they counsel cau-
tion. Far from seeking to meddle in Iraq’s internal affairs, they desire to
protect Qum’s place as the beating heart of Shiism. They also wish to use
the opportunity afforded by Saddam’s overthrow to deepen relations
with the countries of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC). The end of
Saddam’s regime has removed a rigid barrier to closer Iranian links with
the GCC states. Tehran no longer has to worry about the GCC states
keeping their distance for fear of Iraqi pressure; and the fall of Baghdad
has allowed the emergence of the ‘‘Shiite’’ issue into the open. The fears
expressed in 1991 that the removal of Saddam Hussein would somehow
lead to the rise of an Iranian-controlled Shiite-dominated state in Iraq
have not been realized and, rather than the Shiite dimension of Iraqi so-
ciety being seen as a direct security threat, it is part of the reality of the
country. The Shiites no longer stand in the way of closer relations be-
tween Tehran and the GCC states; indeed, with every act of violence in
Iraq, suspicion of the Shiite factor has continued to grow in the Arabian
Peninsula. In theory, US removal of the Ba’athist regime in Iraq has al-
lowed Arab Shiites in that country to make their presence known and
Iran no longer has to fear negative fall-out in the Arab world of its own
Shiite identity or of close association with this community across the
Arab world.
Inter-Shia politics
As already noted, Iraq has the potential to become a domestic force in

Iranian politics and in the changing contours of political Islam. Because
of the role of the United States there and the huge Shiite factor, domestic
developments in Iraq have a direct bearing on Iran’s own political sys-
tem. As already mentioned, with regard to Shiite interpretations of
relations with the state for example, Iran may find a rival in Najaf. Fur-
thermore, the complex Qum–Tehran–Najaf relationship needs untan-
gling before Iran can formulate a clear strategy towards its neighbour.
Yet Iran still has to treat Iraq as an independent factor if it is to produce
a coherent strategy towards it. Can it do so if its policy makers find them-
selves caught at the intersection of the two variables of domestic and
foreign policy over Iraq? Only careful planning by Tehran can offer it a
way out of this complex matrix, but I suspect that that can happen only if
Tehran is finally able to develop a mutually beneficial relationship with
Baghdad’s new rulers, as well as with Iraq’s modern ‘‘political agent’’,
the United States. Although the former may already be on the cards, the
latter will certainly have to await the outcome of the presidential races in
both the United States and Iran.
On another front, the political voice of Iraq’s Shiite communities has
mobilized a violent backlash among Salafis. Salafis despise Shiites as
much as they hate the United States. Many see the United States’ inter-
vention in Iraq as part of a bigger conspiracy to promote the ‘‘heretical’’
Shiites against the larger Sunni Arab states and communities as a way of
strengthening its control of Arab Muslim lands and resources. The Iraq
war, therefore, has changed the character of political Islam itself and,
very broadly speaking, has separated it into the Salafi/al-Qaeda and Shi-
ite camps. The war, furthermore, may well have unleashed much wider
and deeper inter-communal strife in the Muslim world between the ma-
jority Sunnis and the minority Shiites. The ugly manifestations of this di-
vision have already been in evidence in Afghanistan, Pakistan and India
but, with Iraqi Shiites now free to enter the fray, the front-line of this
struggle will have widened and deepened to encompass the Levant and
South and West Asia, locations in which the West has many vital inter-
ests to protect.
Although political Islam will remain a force to be reckoned with in the
next generation, it will increasingly become a divided force (between its
Salafi and Shiite varieties) and will, as a consequence, turn on itself as
frequently as it targets the West.
Iraq and Iranian domestic politics
The Iranian political élite is totally fragmented and factionalized. Fac-

tionalism as a system affects every aspect of public policy in Iran, and
its impact on foreign policy cannot be over-emphasized, particularly as
factional and individual rivalries feed directly into policy decisions. Fur-
thermore, with the domestic arena becoming rather overcrowded and
avenues for critical debate more tightly controlled, factions seem increas-
ingly to articulate their distinctive positions on domestic and related
issues in foreign policy terms. The debate takes place in the context of
efforts to ‘‘save’’ the revolution and the ‘‘nezam’’,21 but the proposed
strategies for doing so are widely divergent. For many of the reformists,
for example, restoration of relations with the United States is vital for re-
newal at home,22 whereas for the more conservative forces even men-
tioning relations with the ‘‘great satan’’ is tantamount to treason.23 The
two major camps, around which gather numerous other groups and influ-
ential personalities, often quote the founder of the Islamic Republic,
Ayatollah Khomeini, in support of their own position, which further con-
fuses the picture, or they try and chart their own strategies for ascen-
dancy in the power struggle at home in terms of Ayatollah Khomeini’s
deeds at times of crisis. All the while the factions are using foreign policy
as a tactical weapon for warfare at home, and this is where the Iraq factor
comes in.
The invitation in February 2004 by a group of Iranian political digni-
taries to Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani of Najaf to intervene in his home
land’s parliamentary electoral process is indicative of the evolving com-
plexity of the Qum–Tehran–Najaf triangle. In their letter, the 400 signa-
tories requested that Ayatollah Sistani express a view on the ‘‘massacre
of democracy and the transformation of [the 2004] parliamentary elec-
tions into a mere stage play’’. They further state:
‘‘We have followed with appreciation your courageous positions in calling for the
holding of free, fair, and direct elections in Iraq, where the population did not
have, until the fall of the Ba’ath regime, the right to own a shortwave radio.
That is, holding free elections that can escape foreign influence is a difficult mat-
ter if not an impossible one. Nevertheless, your Excellency is insisting that the
first and last word in the matter of choosing rulers and representatives belongs
to the Iraqi people. How wonderful it would be if your Excellency would express
your opinion regarding the farce that some in your native land of Iran are at-
tempting to impose on its people, who are wide awake, under the rubric of ‘‘elec-
tions’’. Najaf has always been a support for freedom lovers in Iran . . . Without
their famous fatwa, the people would not have been able to bring down the tyrant
Muhammad Ali shah [in the 1905 constitutional revolution].24
Thus, owing to the presence of the deep-rooted trans-border Shiite

network, what passes for domestic politics in post-Saddam Iraq also
passes as part of the domestic politics of Iran, and vice versa. Reforma-
tion in Iraq will have a direct knock-on effect on Iran’s own political sys-
tem and, if security in Iraq can be achieved, then political changes there
will spur on Iran’s own reformers in their endeavours to democratize the
Islamic Republic. By the same token, continuing insecurity in Iraq will
help to strengthen the hand of the hard-liners in the regime and help
their efforts to consolidate their grip on the legislative, executive and ad-
visory bodies of the Islamic Republic.
Security as a prime driver
Although Tehran is fully cognizant of the geopolitical opportunities the

emerging regional order may present, it is at the same time mindful of
the constraints slowly but surely being imposed on its orbit of influence.
In Afghanistan, for example, it is delighted to see the back of the Tali-
ban, but it is no longer a direct pillar of stability there. It should be re-
called that, during the dark years of Taliban rule, Iran steadfastly sup-
ported the Northern Alliance, which in the end emerged as the military
spearhead of the anti-Taliban campaign in that country. Without Iranian
support in the 1990s, the United States and the United Nations would not
have had the option of using a local force against the Taliban and al-
Qaeda. Yet Tehran feels exposed to developments in Afghanistan and
worries that the US presence there could undermine Iran’s deep-rooted
influence in that largely Persian-speaking country. Weakness in Afghani-
stan has a direct bearing on Iran’s relations with Central Asia too, in
particular with its poorest and only Persian-speaking country, Tajikistan.
US military encirclement, from Tehran’s perspective, is being under-
pinned with subtle barriers being erected between Iran and its traditional
spheres of cultural influence in West Asia. It should not be surprising
then to see a siege mentality taking root there.
In Iraq, Iran is being portrayed as part of the post-Saddam problem
rather than as the solution it had hoped to be. Having borne the brunt
of Saddam’s brutality in an eight-year war with his regime, having pro-
vided shelter for well over 500,000 Iraqi refugees, having followed the
UN line on Iraq since 1990, having not meddled in Iraqi domestic politics
for all this time, it is less than satisfying to the Iranians now to be cast as
the chief villain in Iraq. But Iran’s concerns about post-Saddam Iraq are
far greater than addressing an image problem. Broadly speaking, Iran’s
issues in Iraq can be divided into two groups: internal Iraqi politics; and
the impact of Iraq’s future foreign, security and economic policies on Iran
and the rest of the Persian Gulf. With regard to the former, three issues
are of importance: the future character of the state of Iraq, the role of the
Shiite forces there, and the impact of political developments in Iraq on
Iran itself. Although the prospect of the return of the monarchy remains
rather dim, the need for Tehran to define a relationship with a secular-
leaning republican or monarchical ruling regime in Iraq is unlikely to dis-
appear any time soon.
If, however, Iraq remains an Arab republic, then Iran should expect
that the Shiites will be given a seat at the centre of power in the country.
But which Shiite groups are in a position to negotiate a deal with the
United States and the other Iraqi parties, and which ones should Iran
promote in the context of its wider concerns there? For example, will
the Supreme Council for Islamic Revolution in Iraq, which was founded
in Iran in 1980, continue to present a credible force for Tehran to rely
upon? If SCIRI fails to become a major force in the new Iraq, should
Tehran abandon its own child and seek other alliances with the multitude
of Shiite personalities and organizations (Hojjatoleslam al-Sadr, for ex-

ample)? Whether it could do so without disrupting its relations with the
far more important force of Grand Ayatollah Sistani is certainly in doubt.
Can it indeed afford to tie its fortunes publicly to any Shiite force whose
prospects in post-Saddam Iraq would appear less than clear? The volatil-
ity of the Iraqi political order, therefore, is a substantial security and for-
eign policy challenge for Tehran.
Although no one in Iran bemoans the fall of the Ba’athist regime in
Iraq, there are those in the Iranian élite who do miss the large degree of
continuity, predictability and, dare I say, stability that Saddam Hussein
had brought to Iraq’s post-war relations with its neighbour. Tensions
between the two countries during the July–August 2004 crisis in Najaf
exemplify the problem for Tehran. For all the declarations of friendship
between the two sides and Iran’s continuing expression of support for
the post-Saddam Iraqi leadership, it was Iraq’s interior minister himself,
Falah Hassan al-Naqib, who in mid-July accused Iran of involvement in
unrest in Iraq, and the Iraqi defence minister, Hazim Sha’lan al-Khuza’i,
accused Iran of ‘‘blatant interference’’ in Iraq’s internal affairs.25 The
Governor of Najaf, Adnan al-Zurufi, said on 8 August that ‘‘there is Ira-
nian support for al-Sadr’s group, and this is no secret. We have informa-
tion and evidence that they are supplying the [Imam] Al-Mahdi Army
with weapons and have found such weapons in their possession’’.26
Tehran was quite taken aback by the forcefulness of these attacks from
senior Iraqi officials, and in frustration warned that ‘‘Iraqi officials have
just begun working and need to be cautious . . . [as their remarks will]
have serious legal and political consequences’’ for relations between
Iran and Iraq.27 Jomhuri-yi Islami, an influential hard-line newspaper,
stated in an editorial (8 August) that the interim government was a
‘‘cast of hand-picked actors’’. The next day, it opined that the Najaf crisis
was a ‘‘premeditated conspiracy to eliminate the forces of resistance’’ in
Iraq: ‘‘the time [has] come for us to get up and go after the crown of
Islam, the very existence of the Shi’a, and the national interests of the
Islamic Republic of Iran.’’28 The Shiite file in the hands of the hard-liners
could spell disaster for the moderate camp in Iran, further testing its
relations with the West (notably the European Union, which is being
strained by Iran’s activities in the nuclear field), and adding to Iran’s
problems with Iraq and with Baghdad’s Western backers.
So, as we see, for all its purported influence in Iraq and its desire to in-
tervene, Iran seems to have little choice but to sit on the sidelines while
Iraq’s future is being determined by other interlocutors. It also has to
adopt an arms-length position for the further reason that it cannot afford
to be seen meddling in Iraq’s internal affairs, even though it has a direct
and immediate interest in Iraq’s future. Although it clearly wishes for
a democratic and open Iraq, it still has a host of important and tangible
issues that it needs to discuss with any future Iraqi government. Its list
of concerns includes: a final agreement on a border treaty with Iraq,
war reparations (Iran is claiming some US$100 billion from Iraq), the
settlement of the PoW issue, the release of several Iranian officials and
a diplomat who were kidnapped in Iraq in 2004, and the future of the
anti-Tehran Mojahedin-e Khalq Organization based in Iraq. Iraq, on the
other hand, wants its 100þ military aircraft returned, it wants to manage
the border so that insurgents cannot enter the country from Iran, and it
wants Iran to stop using geography as a lever in its relations with Iraq.
Baghdad is also loathe to see its relations with its Arab neighbours
dictated by the inter-Shia debates or by its relations with Iran.
Iraq’s external policies will also affect Iranian security thinking. A first
concern is whether Baghdad will become a future ally of the United
States in the region, open ties with Israel and act as Washington’s strate-
gic partner in the region. The US–Iraqi partnership could in fact re-
semble the Iranian–US partnership of old during the Pahlavi era. A stable
Iraq could act as a security guarantor of Western interests in the Persian
Gulf as well as the wider Middle East. Iraq’s oil could underpin the rela-
tionship and enable Baghdad to build a strong, US-supplied military ma-
chine that could, in conjunction with the United States’ other Gulf Arab
security partners, resurrect the old ‘‘twin pillars’’ security umbrella first
introduced by President Richard Nixon in the 1970s. Iran would then
find itself on the margins of an imposed security structure in a region
that it regards to be of vital importance to its prosperity and survival.
Secondly, Iran and its Gulf Arab neighbours are busy assessing the
long-term geo-economic consequences of oil-laden Iraq returning to the
market (and the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries –
OPEC) as a big producer and no longer constrained by quota restrictions
and political obligations towards its neighbours. Assuming that its oil out-
put can stabilize, Iraq’s unbridled export of oil in the next decade could
bring havoc to a finely balanced and carefully managed international oil
market. Iran will stand to lose if Iraqi action suppresses the price; Iran’s
influence in the market will also be dealt a blow if Iraq emerges as one of
OPEC’s primary producers. Once its production capacity is enhanced,
with its massive reserves it could easily compete with Saudi Arabia on
price and replace Iran as OPEC’s other main producer. Iran’s political
vulnerabilities with regard to Iraq will then be multiplied to include the
oil factor in their bilateral equation.
Iran and the post-9/11 international order
The paradox for Iran as it adjusts to the reality of US pre-eminence in

the post-9/11 international order is that, although its own role is en-
hanced in geopolitical terms, the very fact that it has emerged as a big
player also exposes it to greater external pressures and, in particular,
much US scrutiny. The post-9/11 order, therefore, has been both good
and problematic for the Islamic Republic. Enemies on its two longest
land borders have been destroyed since 9/11, but at the same time the
US military and political presence in West Asia has increased exponen-
tially. Even fears about Iraq’s WMD capabilities were reduced to dust in
the course of the 2003 war, but Tehran’s own activities in the nuclear
field have come under much greater international attention since then.
Although Iran finds itself as an ally of the West in the anti-Salafi Islam
struggle, it remains on the United States’ list of terrorist states by virtue
of its close association with the Hezbollah organization in Lebanon and
its support for Palestinian groups.
It is in the context of Iran’s complex position in the 9/11 international
order that Iranian national security debates and its various military and
civilian nuclear programmes crystallize.
National security and Iran’s nuclear programme
Since the introduction of the Clinton doctrine of ‘‘dual containment’’ of

Iran and Iraq in 1993, the United States and the 15-member European
Union have had their differences over Western policy options towards
these oil-rich neighbouring states. Owing to a set of complex reasons,
‘‘dual containment’’ did not encourage the emergence of a partnership
between Tehran and Baghdad. Nonetheless, both countries were from
the mid-1990s heavily engaged in courting European countries (including
Russia) as a means of bending the containment barrier. They also banked
on winning European support through successfully exploiting potential
transatlantic rifts over President Clinton’s Gulf policy. In the aftermath
of President George W. Bush’s ‘‘axis of evil’’ State of the Union address
in January 2002, which placed both Tehran and Baghdad on notice, it is
fair to say that neither Iran nor Iraq has managed successfully to use the
European Union as a protective shield against the United States. Fur-
thermore, Operation Iraqi Freedom and the fall of the Iraqi Ba’athist re-
gime in April 2003 provided sufficient evidence for the European powers
that Washington was prepared to engage in costly and sustained military
campaigns if it felt that such actions were an effective preventive national
security measure. Recognition of the United States’ ability and willing-
ness to act without the consent of the international community encour-
aged a meeting of minds between Tehran on the one hand, which had
only just managed more ably to resist the United States’ political, diplo-
matic and economic pressures, and the European Union on the other,
which was struggling very hard to mend bridges at the heart of the Union
following the very public and sustained opposition of Germany and

France to the US/UK-led war in Iraq. In the charged diplomatic atmo-
sphere following the failure of UN debates on Iraq, both Iran and the
European Union had much to gain from making the European Union’s
‘‘constructive engagement’’ dialogue with Tehran a higher priority. Teh-
ran could try to engage Europe against the United States; the European
Union could claim to be taking direct and effective action to bring Iran
into line without the need for the threat of force. The ability in October
2003 of the EU trio of Germany, France and the United Kingdom to con-
vince Iran to give a full account of its nuclear programme before the 31
October deadline set by the board of the International Atomic Energy
Agency (IAEA), to halt its uranium enrichment activities and to bring
its entire nuclear activities under the IAEA regime of snap actions was
portrayed by both sides as a victory for dialogue over the threat or use
of force. The onus now was on Tehran and the European Union to con-
vince a sceptical United States that the agreement reached in Tehran on
21 October between the trio’s foreign ministers and the Iranian govern-
ment, through the office of its National Security Council, was comprehen-
sive and robust enough not to require a referral of the Iranian case to the
UN Security Council for a fuller discussion. The latter option had been
the United States’ preferred route of dealing with Iran since 2002, when
revelations about its apparently clandestine nuclear activities had begun
to surface.
Although Brussels and Washington approached Iran differently, Teh-
ran was left in no doubt that, in the aftermath of the Iraq war and the
North Korean nuclear stand-off, both sides of the Atlantic took Iran’s
nuclear programme extremely seriously and were dismayed by the direc-
tion of its activities. Even Moscow, the supplier of Iran’s nuclear power
plants, entered the fray by expressing concern about the nature of the
ongoing nuclear research in Iran. Moscow publicly urged Tehran to sign
the Additional Protocol to the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nu-
clear Weapons (NPT). In a blunt warning, Russia also stated that it too
would not tolerate a state with nuclear weapons in West Asia, on its
own door-step.
The programme itself has become much more public since 2002, when
a string of revelations forced the Iranian authorities to acknowledge that
they had in fact sought enrichment facilities, separating units and nuclear
weapons designs.29 It was announced by the Iranian authorities in early
2003 that Iran’s nuclear programme aimed ‘‘to complete the circle [cycle]
of fuel for plants for peaceful purposes’’. The head of the country’s
atomic energy programme, Mr Aqazadeh, declared on 10 February 2003
that his agency had begun work on a uranium enrichment plant near the
city of Kashan (the Natanz site), stating that ‘‘very extensive research
[had] already started’’. The fuel would come from the brand-new Ura-
nium Conversion Facility built in the industrial city of Isfahan. Mr Aqa-
zadeh added that the Isfahan plant was to be complemented with another
facility for producing uranium fuel casings. International concerns about
Iran’s nuclear ambitions were further heightened by these announce-
ments, particularly as only a day earlier Tehran had announced that it
had successfully extracted uranium and was planning to process the spent
fuel from its nuclear facilities within the country. The Iranian president
himself appeared on national television on the anniversary of Iran’s
Islamic revolution in February to congratulate his countrymen on their
nuclear achievements, enumerating their research successes and then
underlining the statements already made by the head of the Iranian
atomic energy programme.
The IAEA, of course, which was already under severe pressure for its
failures in Iraq and North Korea, immediately entered the debate. Of
further concern to the IAEA at this time were the sites being developed
in the cities of Natanz and Arak, of whose existence the agency had first
learnt through intelligence sources and not the Iranian authorities them-
selves. Iran’s late notification of the two sites to the IAEA, though legal
under the NPT terms, reached the Vienna-based organization only in
September 2002, a month after an opposition group had published details
of the facilities. The revelations showed that the underground site near
Natanz would house Iran’s main gas centrifuge plant for enriching ura-
nium for use in reactors, while the Arak facility would produce heavy
water, an essential ingredient for plutonium production. The IAEA’s
February 2003 inspection of Natanz revealed that Iran not only had
been able to develop and advance the Pakistani-supplied technology to
assemble and ‘‘cascade’’ 160 centrifuge machines, but had assembled a
sufficient quantity of parts for installing a further 1,000–5,000 centrifuge
machines between 2003 and 2005. Natanz, Iran has told the IAEA, has
been designed to produce low-enriched uranium for Iran’s planned ex-
pansion of nuclear power plants, and is therefore unable to generate
weapons-grade highly enriched uranium. The scientific community, how-
ever, is concerned that the depth and extent of the Natanz plant implies
a far more ambitious project. From the US perspective, of course, Iran’s
intention to process and complete the nuclear fuel cycle would have only
one purpose: to develop nuclear weapons.
We now know that Libya’s secret negotiations with London and Wash-
ington over the abandoning of all of its WMD activities also yielded
much valuable information about Iran’s secret nuclear programme, shed-
ding more light on the nature of its clandestine links with Pakistan and
North Korea and the murky nuclear trade across Asia. It had thus
emerged by late 2003 that Iran had established a multiple programme of
research and development, based around a strategy of flexible acquisition.
Prior to Iran’s 2003 revelations, it had been surmised that Iran was
secretly pursuing the development of a nuclear weapons option in paral-
lel with its IAEA-registered nuclear research and power-generation pro-
gramme. The argument at the turn of the century was about ‘‘when’’ Iran
might be able to acquire and deploy home-grown nuclear weapons and
not ‘‘if’’. In Tehran itself, however, the inter-élite discussions about Iran’s
nuclear options entered the public arena much later than in the West,
namely in the course of the IAEA’s high-profile engagement of Tehran
from early 2003.
In Iran itself, the nuclear debate has tended to cut across factional
lines. Conservative elements make the argument against the possession
of WMD, whereas some reformers passionately argue in favour of de-
veloping a nuclear weapons option as Iran’s right and a national security
imperative. In broad terms, five principle arguments have been circulat-
ing in Iran. The first argument has been rooted in the rights and respon-
sibilities of sovereign states signatories to the NPT. As a loyal member,
some circles argue, Iran has never violated the terms of the NPT, but it
nonetheless wishes to take maximum (and legitimate) advantage of the
opportunities that the NPT offers the member states to acquire nuclear
technology and know-how for peaceful purposes. Iran, the argument
goes, should take full advantage of its NPT regime membership. Others
argue that the costs associated with nuclear research are so great that
Iran should not even enter this field. In addition, there are environmental
issues to consider and the fact that, by building nuclear facilities, Iran will
create more strategic targets for its adversaries to strike at.
The second argument pertains to the prestige of being a nuclear state.
The proponents of the nuclear option argue that, for Iran to be taken
seriously as a dominant regional actor, it must be seen to have an exten-
sive nuclear R&D programme, even though in practice it may not be
translating its research into practical use. Pointing to the examples of
North Korea, Pakistan and India, it is said that these countries have
become immune to US aggression thanks to their nuclear weapons ca-
pabilities. The opponents of this view argue that the Soviet and North
Korean examples show not only that the technological spin-offs from nu-
clear research are minimal, but that any advances in this field will inevi-
tably occur at the expense of another, probably vital, civilian sector. For
middle-income countries such as Iran, the means of recouping the costs
of nuclear research through technological spin-offs simply do not exist;
in particular, since the majority of Iran’s experienced scientific commu-
nity reside overseas, how are the benefits of such highly sensitive re-
search to have the proposed national impact?
The third argument for developing a nuclear option is rooted in the
geopolitical insecurity paradigm. Members of both main factions argue
that Iran’s neighbourhood is insecure and inter-state relations uncer-
tain. With Israel and Pakistan in possession of nuclear weapons, it would

make strategic sense for Iran at least to develop the option, if not actually
to declare itself as a nuclear weapons state. However, the dangers of a
nuclear arms race developing as a consequence of Iran’s decision are ac-
knowledged by the pro-nuclear camp. Others argue that, because Iran
does not face any existential threat to itself, and indeed its borders have
been breached only once over the past 200 years (in the 1980–1988 Iran–
Iraq war), there can be no conceivable justification on security grounds
for Iran’s possession of such evil weapons. With the Iraqi threat now
practically removed, Iran no longer has any natural enemies to warrant
the development of nuclear weapons.
The fourth argument is closely linked to the above and is found in ter-
ritorial nationalist debates in Iran. In the post–Cold War, post-9/11 era,
Iran’s independence and its sovereignty can be guaranteed only through
the possession of such powerful weapons as nuclear-armed missile sys-
tems. Without such a capability, Tehran will always be open to threats
from the United States and other states with aggressive intent towards
it. The opposite camp argues that there is no evidence to suggest that
Iran will be more secure as a consequence of nuclearization, that the
United States will change its policies towards the Islamic Republic, or
that the regional countries themselves will submit to Iran’s will. If any-
thing, even some advisers to the president have suggested that the de-
ployment of nuclear weapons by Iran will adversely affect its relations
with all of its neighbours, including Russia. Also, they claim, nuclear
weapons deployment could encourage militarization of the polity and
more adventurism in Iran’s foreign relations.
The final argument relates to the national resources issue. The propo-
nents of total freedom of action for Iran in all fields of nuclear research
and technological development argue that completing the fuel cycle
would allow the construction of several nuclear power stations without
complete dependence on outside suppliers. It is claimed that such action
will secure an endless supply of energy for future generations. The oppo-
nents of this view point to the start-up costs of such a huge programme,
as well as to its maintenance and periodic modernization expenses. A
country endowed with some of the largest gas deposits in the world will
find it hard to convince the international community that its interest in
nuclear technology is to secure badly needed energy supplies.
A geopolitical endgame?
These nuclear debates do not seem to have reached a conclusive point in

Iran, and the outcome will depend as much on the balance of power be-
tween the various factions and the nuclear schools of thought, as on how
the West reacts to Iran’s nuclear ambitions. A glimpse of the balance of

arguments on the pace of Iran’s nuclear programme was gleaned by the
IAEA board of governors’ resolution of 13 March 2004 in which Iran was
criticized for the fact that its October 2003 declarations ‘‘did not amount
to the complete and final picture of Iran’s past and present nuclear pro-
gramme considered essential by the board’s November 2003 resolution’’.
The IAEA expressed particular concern regarding Iran’s advanced cen-
trifuge design, its laser enrichment capabilities and its hot cells facility at
its heavy-water research reactor. The Iranian expression of outrage at all
levels of its leadership at the resolution and the calls from the leadership
of the Islamic Revolution Guards Corp for Iran to withdraw from the
NPT altogether were soon tempered with a more conciliatory line that
Iran remained committed to the agreements reached with the EU trio’s
foreign ministers. They in effect had become the guardians of Iran’s rela-
tionship with the IAEA – a position that none seems to want, let alone
enjoy.
However, because the resolution also praised Iran for its cooperation
and openness, it proved very difficult for the US administration to pull
Iran in front of the Security Council for its nuclear indiscretions. Further-
more, the United States needs Iranian acquiescence for its presence in
Iraq and Afghanistan, and Washington increasingly needs the European
Union for its post-occupation plans in Iraq (and also post-election Af-
ghanistan), so it was unable to escalate the concerns over Iran’s nuclear
ambitions into a general crisis at this stage.30 Apart from its own unilat-
eral condemnation of Tehran, it was hard to see as the crisis unfolded
how the United States could do more than ensure that the European
Union and the IAEA continue to prise open Iran’s nuclear secrets while
pressing it to comply with its NPT obligations without delay. This may
well prove to be the United States’ only realistic option in the medium
term, but this is not a position with which it can be content if Tehran
does not yield to international pressure.
The intensity of debates about Iran’s national security, its defence pri-
orities and even the organization of its military forces is symptomatic of a
wider concern arising from the rapid changes that have occurred in West
Asia since 1989. The Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan in 1989 was the
start of a rapid process that not only ended the bipolar world in which
Iran thrived but changed beyond recognition the geopolitics of West
Asia. Over a short period of time, the United States emerged as the dom-
inant force in politico-military and economic terms in the new post–Cold
War order, building on the ashes of the Soviet super-state and the War-
saw Pact an extensive range of local partnerships in key regions of the
world. In the aftermath of the 1991 war for the liberation of Kuwait, it
also consolidated its position as the Middle East’s premier power. US-
induced regime change in Afghanistan and Iraq in the wake of 9/11 and
growing US sensitivities about Iran’s regional role have added new layers
of concern to Tehran’s anxieties.31 Iran has had only a decade to absorb
the impact of the end of the bipolar order, and is still debating how to
adjust to the geopolitical implications of a US-dominated post–Cold
War order. Yet, by early 2002, Iran had to take immediate stock of a po-
tentially even bigger upheaval in the international system – the direct and
indirect costs of a post-9/11 international order in which the US presence
in the area would be even greater and possibly more long term. Despite
the advantages for Iran of US military interventions in Afghanistan and
Iraq (two of its traditional spheres of influence), the country’s leadership
has had to balance such benefits against the real threats to Iran that US
action in Iran’s immediate neighbourhood could pose. As we have seen,
despite its consummate efforts to chart a truly independent line in its for-
eign affairs, for the first time in over a century Iran seems to have little
say, let alone control, over developments, or the direction of events, in
West Asia. The absence of control over developments around it merely
helps to exacerbate Tehran’s anxieties about the regime’s own future.
This anxiety has in turn heightened the country’s security dilemmas, as
shown in its nuclear debates. Adopting a longer-term view, however, it
is ironic that the removal of the Soviet superpower from its northern bor-
ders in 1991 and of the threats emanating from the Taliban and Saddam
Hussein in 2001 and 2003, respectively, has not only made Iranians feel
less safe at home but actually deepened the sense of siege in Tehran. In
Iran at least, the volatility of the post-9/11 international order resonates
strongly at home, both in its inter-factional relations and in its domestic
agenda-setting. But it is in the foreign policy realm that the post-9/11
order has fundamentally affected this ancient country’s ways of interac-
tion, and also its established relations, with its immediate hinterland.
With the West Asian ground now likely to be shifting under the feet of
its states for some time to come, Iran is set to continue the long cycle of
geopolitical recalculations it has been making since 1989 before it can
discover again a natural posture for itself in this volatile but strategically
significant part of the international system.
Notes
1. James Piscatori, ‘‘Foreword’’, in Anoushiravan Ehteshami and Manshour Varasteh, eds,

Iran and the International Community (London: Routledge, 1991), p. ix.
2. Graham E. Fuller, The ‘‘Center of the Universe’’: The Geopolitics of Iran (Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 1991), p. 2.
3. For discussion of the negative balance concept, see Rouhollah K. Ramazani, Iran’s
Foreign Policy: A Study of Foreign Policy in Modernizing Nations (Charlottesville, VA:

University of Virginia Press, 1975).
4. See Hossein Amirsadeghi, ed., The Security of the Persian Gulf (New York: St Martin’s
Press, 1981).
5. Shahram Chubin and Sepehr Zabih, The Foreign Relations of Iran (Berkeley, CA: Uni-
versity of California Press, 1974), p. 214.
6. Akbar Mahdi, ‘‘Islam, the Middle East, and the New World Order’’, in Hamid Zange-
neh, ed., Islam, Iran and World Stability (New York: St Martin’s Press, 1994), pp. 75–96.
7. For a more detailed discussion of Iranian perspectives on the ‘‘new world order’’, see
Raymond A. Hinnebusch and Anoushiravan Ehteshami, eds, The Foreign Policies of
Middle East States (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2002).
8. Rouhollah K. Ramazani, ‘‘Iran’s Foreign Policy: Both North and South’’, Middle East
Journal, Vol. 46, No. 3 (Summer 1992), pp. 393–412.
9. Islamic Republic News Agency (IRNA), 14 September 2001.
10. Reports by the Islamic Students’ News Agency (ISNA), 12 September 2001.
11. IRNA, 12 September 2001.
12. Tehran Times, 12 September 2001. The paper editorialized that, ‘‘[w]hen a government
is prepared to go against all internationally accepted principles in its support of a racist
and criminal regime, it cannot expect to escape unscathed’’.
13. Morteza Nabavi gave this interview to ISNA, 14 September 2001.
14. Entekhab, 13 September 2001.
15. IRNA, 18 September 2001.
16. Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL) Iran Report, Vol. 4, No. 35, 17 September
2001.
17. RFE/RL Iran Report, Vol. 4, No. 36, 24 September 2001.
18. Mahan Abedin, ‘‘Iranian Views of Regime Change in Iraq’’, Middle East Bulletin, Vol.
4, No. 11 (November–December 2002).
19. Jon B. Alterman, ‘‘Not in My Backyard: Iraq’s Neighbors’ Interests’’, Washington Quar-
terly, Vol. 26, No. 3 (Summer 2003), pp. 149–160.
20. According to some Arab sources, ‘‘[t]he yellow Iranian birth certificates [issued by Ira-
nian consulates in Karbala and other cities] bear witness to the fact that those Shia who
dream of ruling Iraq are more Iranian than Iraqi’’. See The Daily Star, 24 March 2003.
21. ‘‘Nezam’’ encompasses the ruling élite and its social allies and beneficiaries, as well as
the broader post-Pahlavi state and government structures.
22. In May 2003, for example, a large group of parliamentarians again called for the resto-
ration of relations with the United States. In an open letter signed by 153 deputies in the
290-seat Majlis and read out in the chamber, the parliamentarians stated that Iran was
in ‘‘a critical situation’’ and ‘‘following the installation of American forces in Afghani-
stan and the occupation of Iraq, the threat has arrived at our borders’’ (Daily Telegraph,
9 May 2003).
23. Elements of both camps have also argued that Tehran would be in an exceptionally
weak bargaining position if it suddenly proposed talks at the height of the United
States’ influence in the region (Mardom Salari, 19 April 2003).
24. A translation of the original 1 February 2004 ash-Sharq al-Awsat article is available at:
hhttp://www.juancole.com/2004_02_01_juancole_archive.html#107596823435980037i.
25. Al-Khuza’i also said on 9 August that ‘‘[w]eapons manufactured in Iran were found in
Al-Najaf in the hands of those criminals, who received these weapons from the Iranian
border’’. He accused Iran of being Iraq’s ‘‘first enemy’’, in the same interview with Abu
Dhabi-based Al-Arabiyah television.
26. RFE/RL Iran Report, 17 August 2004.
27. Remarks made by the Iranian foreign ministry spokesman Hamid Reza Assefi. See
RFE/RL Iraq Report, 22 July 2004. Iraqi Foreign Minister Hoshyar Zebari told the
Sunday Telegraph (4 July 2004) that as many as 10,000 foreign spies had entered Iraq
since May 2003.
28. RFE/RL Iran Report, 17 August 2004.
29. Robert J. Einhorn, ‘‘A Transatlantic Strategy on Iran’s Nuclear Program’’, Washington
Quarterly, Vol. 27, No. 4 (2004), pp. 21–32.
30. According to Seymour Hersh: ‘‘Iraqi Shiite militia leaders like Moqtada al-Sadr, the
former American intelligence official said, are seen by the Israeli leadership as ‘stalking
horses’ for Iran – owing much of their success in defying the American-led coalition to
logistical and communications support and training provided by Iran. The former intel-
ligence official said, ‘We began to see telltale signs of organizational training last sum-
mer. But the White House didn’t want to hear it: ‘‘We can’t take on another problem
right now. We can’t afford to push Iran to the point where we’ve got to have a show-
down.’’ ’ ’’ See ‘‘PLAN B: As June 30th Approaches, Israel Looks to the Kurds’’, New
Yorker, 28 June 2004.
31. In the words of Afrasiabi and Maleki, Iranians were ‘‘unprepared for the massive
change – indeed a revolution – in the security environment around Iran wrought almost
overnight in the aftermath of the 11 September atrocities’’. Kaveh Afrasiabi and Abbas
Maleki, ‘‘Iran’s Foreign Policy after 11 September’’, Brown Journal of World Affairs,
Vol. 9, No. 2 (Winter/Spring 2003), p. 255.
9
An Israeli perspective
Mark A. Heller
The international system after the war in Iraq
The decision-making process leading up to the war in Iraq, as well as the

course of the military campaign itself, seemed to reinforce the argument
that the United States, in the aftermath of the Cold War, was both willing
and able to pursue an essentially unilateralist foreign policy. Both propo-
nents and critics of US behaviour posited the proposition that the col-
lapse of the Soviet Union had removed the only real constraint on Amer-
ica’s ability to act as it saw fit and that, henceforth, the only variable in
determining whether or not the international system would impinge on
US decisions would be the ideological predilections of the US govern-
ment. In other words, the Iraq crisis (or at least part of it) seemed to
validate the notion of emerging unipolarity in the international system.
The aftermath of the war in Iraq seemed to reinforce the argument
that the United States was, after all, unable to promote its foreign policy
objectives without reference to the rest of the world. Both proponents
and critics of US behaviour posited the proposition that the growing
chaos in Iraq following the stage of active hostilities and the United
States’ difficulties in mobilizing the legitimacy and resources needed to
deal with it underscored the continuing dependence of the United States
on international institutions and procedures. Hence the need to restore
the ‘‘multilateral imperative’’ in US foreign policy. In other words, the
Iraq crisis (or at least part of it) seemed to validate the notion of persis-
tent multipolarity in the international system.
161
162 MARK A. HELLER
The central argument of this chapter is that, although both hypotheses

contain important insights, both also exaggerate the extent to which the
international system is evolving and both fail to capture the nuances of a
more complex reality. Instead, the Iraq crisis demonstrates that, though
US pre-eminence is both unprecedented and undeniable, major con-
straints still operate on US policy, and that the term that best captures
this complex reality is ‘‘uni-multipolarity’’.1 This reality is unlikely to
change in any foreseeable circumstances, certainly not before profound
changes are made in the character of international organizations and in-
ternational law. Finally, I argue that this is a reality to which Israel, as a
small power with little influence on the structure or norms of the interna-
tional order, must adapt itself but with which it is, for a variety of rea-
sons, rather comfortable.
The United States in the international system
The most salient feature of the current international system is the over-
whelming pre-eminence of the United States, particularly in the military
sphere. In terms of its ability to generate military power and project it
abroad, the United States has no rivals and practically needs no partners.
Indeed, the current gap in military capabilities between the leading actor
and all others probably exceeds anything at least since the time of the
Roman Empire. For example, the United States already spends more
than twice as much on military procurement as does the entire European
Union. Moreover, every indicator suggests that the military divide be-
tween the United States and the rest of the world will only grow in the
foreseeable future. US investment in military research and development
(R&D), particularly in exotic areas such as cybernetics and nanotech-
nology, far outstrips that of any other country or probable coalition of
countries; it is more than four times the total R&D investment of all EU
members. This virtually ensures that the United States’ technological ad-
vantage will only increase in the coming years.
Of course, the United States’ pre-eminence does not derive solely from
its military power. The United States is also the largest single-country
economy and consumer market in the world, making it the premier target
for exports of most other countries. Compared with its nearest putative
rival – united Europe – its economy has grown faster during periods of
expansion and declined more slowly during periods of contraction. Its
population is younger and growing, whereas that of Europe is ageing
and dwindling. It is the largest underwriter of higher education and of
public and private sector scientific and medical research and develop-
ment, and it is the biggest source of technical innovation. It is even the
AN ISRAELI PERSPECTIVE 163
greatest producer and exporter of mass culture, ranging from literature

and film to pop music and junk food.
None of this means that US pre-eminence is permanent. But it does
mean that the United States, for the foreseeable future, will truly qualify
as what former French Foreign Minister Hubert Védrine once termed the
‘‘hyper-power’’. And it does mean that the current international system is
as close to being structurally unipolar as any that has ever existed.
Constraints on US power and the need for partners
Nevertheless, the exercise of US power, even military power, is not un-

constrained by other actors in the international system. For one thing,
the United States, unlike previous international hegemons, is a democ-
racy. Executive decision-making processes are influenced by public opin-
ion and legislative action, one determinant of which is the perception of
legitimacy. Part of that depends on the support or at least tacit approval
of other international actors, which is why the United States stressed so
strongly that it was acting in Iraq with a ‘‘coalition of the willing’’, even
if coalition partners were actually dispensable for military operations
(as they were in Kosovo, where the United States, under a different ad-
ministration, operated without UN authorization but under the cover of
NATO). As a result, the rest of the international system, even if it cannot
directly prevent the use of US force, can indirectly constrain it by provid-
ing input into the domestic US debate.
The willingness of other actors to support or object to US action is con-
ditioned not only by their material stakes in the issue at hand, but also
by their general level of comfort or discomfort with US pre-eminence in
global affairs. Historically, the emergence of such hegemonic power has
prompted others to try, almost instinctively, to mobilize balancing or
countervailing power, if not alone then through the building of counter-
coalitions. The combination of resentment, envy and fear that explains
this instinct was given expression in one of French President Jacques
Chirac’s explanations for his opposition to the use of US force in Iraq:
‘‘Any community with only one dominant power is always a dangerous
one, and provokes reactions. That’s why I favor a multipolar world, in
which Europe obviously has its place.’’2
A second constraint concerns the sorts of security threats that military
force is intended to address. US military power is undoubtedly sufficient
to deter or defeat any traditional, state-based military threat to itself or
its allies. Since the end of the Cold War, however, the United States has
increasingly broadened the definition of its threat agenda to include, and
in fact emphasize, threats of terrorism by non-state actors and state sup-
164 MARK A. HELLER
porters of terrorism and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction

(WMD) to ‘‘rogue states’’ and terrorists. The applicability of military
power to these sorts of threats is far more problematic.
Non-state actors, even in an era of cybernetics and virtual reality, need
to occupy some physical space in order to plan, train, equip, finance
and launch operations. That physical space exists within the frontiers of
states, and terrorists can freely use it only if governments support or tol-
erate their presence or else are unable to assert control of the territory
nominally under their jurisdiction, e.g. in ‘‘failed states’’. In some circum-
stances, military power can be applied to contain or eliminate state sup-
porters of terrorism or else take control of failed states. That is what the
United States did in Afghanistan and also (as at least part of the rationale
for war) in Iraq. But, even in these circumstances, the use of military
force is politically feasible only if some degree of legitimacy has been es-
tablished through a prior effort to address the threat through methods
short of war and a successful search for some degree of approval by other
international actors. Such preconditions do not mean that the United
States will subordinate its own assessment of when all means short of
war have been exhausted or that it will accept that only institutionalized
bodies such as the United Nations or the European Union can confer the
‘‘seal of approval’’. But they do constrain the extent to which the United
States can act militarily in a truly unilateral fashion.
Thirdly, to be effective, counter-terrorism measures short of war de-
pend in large measure on international cooperation. In assessing and
evaluating information about the capabilities and intentions of terrorists
and state sponsors of terrorism (and especially in tapping human intelli-
gence), in tracking and controlling the movement of suspect individuals,
suspect funds and suspect materials and components, in police operations
and in judicial proceedings, US security agencies have no choice but to
rely on cooperation with their counterparts in other countries.
Finally, and most critically, US military preponderance is not easily
adapted to dealing with what are increasingly seen as the ‘‘root causes’’
of the international terrorist threat – the conditions of political, economic
and social dysfunction that create both a large corps of highly motivated
terrorists and an even larger corps of supporters and sympathizers who
provide the material infrastructure and psychological foundation for ter-
rorists. Particularly since 11 September 2001, the US administration has
focused on the nexus between terrorism/WMD proliferation, on the one
hand, and the lack of political, economic and social freedoms among
those posing the chief threats, on the other. What this logically implies is
an essentially subversive foreign policy to promote the liberalization of
political and economic systems in the developing world.
In one sense, there is nothing new about this. The United States and
most European countries have for decades been ostensibly committed

to development and modernization in developing countries, and they
have also gone through spasms of commitment to the promotion of hu-
man rights. Indeed, the European Union actually preceded the United
States in appreciating the security threat stemming from political re-
pression, economic regression and social stagnation in neighbouring
areas. That appreciation gave rise to the Euro-Mediterranean Partner-
ship (EMP), an initiative undertaken by the European Union in 1995
to promote democratization, civil society and human rights in the Medi-
terranean through dialogue and economic incentives, including a Euro-
Mediterranean free trade area.
What seemed different about the post-9/11 US approach, therefore,
was not the mere conviction that the ills associated with the failure to
move the modernization project forward – ills vividly documented by
the 2002 and 2003 Arab Human Development Reports of the United
Nations – constituted a direct threat to its national security. Instead, it
was the apparent determination to push the modernization project with
greater vigour, even if that meant no longer working only with existing
regimes but also working against them. In other words, the United States
apparently concluded that it could no longer rely on inducements such as
security support and economic assistance to elicit greater domestic liber-
alization, but that it needed to apply some degree of coercion and run the
risk of confrontation with authoritarian regimes, even those otherwise
deemed ‘‘friendly’’ or ‘‘moderate’’.
Yet, outside of the military sphere, it will be very difficult for the
United States alone to make coercion truly effective. This is not because
the United States lacks non-military instruments of its own. After all, US
diplomatic and economic levers are not inconsequential, and the costs of
defying strong US preferences cannot be airily dismissed. But these in-
struments do not begin to ‘‘dominate the market’’ in the same way that
US military power does. Consequently, the threat of US political and
economic sanctions, unless coordinated with a critical mass of other inter-
national actors, cannot have the same impact. In short, non-military
unilateralism by the United States is even less feasible than is military
unilateralism.
Besides, embarrassing revelations about the intelligence assessments
and decision-making processes leading up to the war in Iraq, together
with the obvious complications and costs of arranging a viable post-war
order in Iraq, suggest that Iraq, rather than serving as some kind of
precedent or template for future action, will actually turn out to be sui
generis. This does not mean that limited operations (‘‘surgical strikes’’)
are precluded. But it does mean that the credibility of future military uni-
lateralism on a very large scale, even under the cover of ‘‘coalitions of
166 MARK A. HELLER
the willing’’, has been undermined for the foreseeable future, and the
United States will need the support of others even more than it did
before – as evidenced by the efforts of the US administration to enlist
multilateral support for its ongoing state-building operations in Iraq and
for efforts to contain Iran and roll back North Korean nuclear pro-
grammes. In short, the international system remains multipolar in many
important respects.
Building a coalition on the Middle East
Both the need for cooperation with others and the difficulty of obtaining
it will almost certainly be most evident with respect to the Muslim world,
especially the Middle East. The need stems from the fact that this is
where the greatest socio-economic dysfunction is found and from where
the greatest new security threats emanate. By nearly all indicators of
political and economic openness, the Middle East lags behind most other
regions of the world. With a few notable exceptions, almost all the re-
maining authoritarian governments and state-controlled economies are
concentrated there. Again with a few exceptions, it is also the region
that generates the most intense concerns about proliferation of weapons
of mass destruction and long-range delivery systems, where the most
virulent anti-Western sentiment is cultivated, and from which the most
numerous and destructive perpetrators of terrorism draw their support,
inspiration, financing and recruits.
The difficulty of securing international cooperation stems from the fact
that this is also where other major international actors find the greatest
opportunities to assert their independence from the United States and
the fewest reasons to align themselves with it in pursuing confrontational
policies with local regimes. To some extent, this is merely a local/regional
manifestation of the general aversion of other states and international
organizations to being seen as accomplices or tools of a United States
suspected of hegemonic aspirations. Most other international actors,
especially in Europe, do not share the US view that coercion can be a
legitimate instrument of foreign policy, except in direct self-defence
(however slippery that principle may be when their own vital interests
are threatened).
However, there are also specific reasons why other actors will be reluc-
tant to alienate regional governments and vocal publics in Arab or Mus-
lim countries. These include dependence on oil, the absence of visible
and effective liberal opposition movements in most of these countries
and sensitivity about participating in what will inevitably be described
by the targets of US-led action as an anti-Muslim or anti-Arab crusade.
This latter consideration is particularly compelling in countries with large

Muslim minorities.
Both the general and the specific reasons have particular resonance in
Europe, especially in some of the larger countries where participation
in US-led enterprises is believed to compromise independent stature in
global affairs, and in Russia. Many Europeans believe that they have an
even greater stake in Middle Eastern/North African/Mediterranean af-
fairs than does the United States because of geographical proximity,
closer economic links (including a larger share of Middle Eastern import
markets, which they are reluctant to lose, and greater dependence on
Middle Eastern sources of energy, which they are reluctant to jeopar-
dize) and a larger domestic Muslim/Arab population. They also believe
that they have a better understanding of these regions because of longer
– if not always happier – experience dealing with former colonies. Some
of them even claim a more nuanced appreciation of terrorism owing to
longer exposure to it at home. For these reasons, several European coun-
tries have invested considerable diplomatic resources in the region, and
the European Union as a whole has made the Middle East the centre-
piece of its Common Foreign and Security Policy.
This means that it will be difficult for the United States to assemble
broad coalitions to promote US-defined solutions to various challenges.
In the most extreme cases involving large-scale military intervention,
that does not necessarily pose a problem insofar as the conduct of mili-
tary operations is concerned, since US power alone may be sufficient
to eliminate hostile regimes in ‘‘rogue states’’ or, where regimes barely
function, to take physical control of ‘‘failed states’’ (or parts of them).
But if the purpose afterward is to transform the societies that harbour
terrorists and/or weapons of mass destruction, then there must be sus-
tained follow-up in the form of humanitarian assistance, peacekeeping,
law enforcement, the entrenchment of political institutions and the prop-
agation of different political values – in short, ‘‘nation-building’’. US mil-
itary forces are not trained or equipped for these sorts of tasks. Nor are
they particularly eager to undertake them. It is not clear that any exter-
nally sponsored project in nation-building can ever really succeed any-
where. But the indications from Afghanistan as well as from Iraq make
it clear that, for the project to have any chance of success, structures,
skills, resources and experiences are needed that the United States,
alone, does not possess in sufficient quantities. In other words, for a mili-
tary action, even a unilateral one, to accomplish its political purpose, the
United States will need to mobilize the willing involvement of other
states and international organizations, including the United Nations.
In any case, the aftermath of the war in Iraq reinforces the expecta-
tion that this sort of exercise will not be repeated any time soon. And the
168 MARK A. HELLER
need for international cooperation is even more apparent in less extreme

and less unlikely situations, where the purpose is not to replace a regime
or to create one where it in effect does not exist, but rather to influence
the domestic and international behaviour of functioning regimes. This
might imply diplomatic and/or economic sanctions (for example, boycotts
or embargoes). Here, too, the United States has the greatest capacity to
act, and it is rarely possible for any other individual country to step in
and fill whatever diplomatic, economic or security role the United States
plays; it is precisely the expectation of US leadership that usually prompts
the rest of the so-called ‘‘international community’’ to respond to every
problem by asking Washington, ‘‘What are you going to do about it?’’
But it is also rarely possible for the United States, acting alone, to apply
enough pressure to bring about change in the behaviour of regimes, par-
ticularly when that change represents a threat to the long-term survival of
a regime. For such pressure to be effective, it must encompass a critical
mass of other diplomatic and/or economic actors, so that any remaining
cracks in the wall of containment are not wide enough for regimes to
wriggle through.
The problem is that sanctions almost always also imply some diplo-
matic and/or economic costs to the states that apply them, or to impor-
tant domestic elements within those states, and they almost always pro-
voke opposition on humanitarian grounds because they punish innocent
civilians more than the government they are intended to target. Even
the post-1991 sanctions regime against Iraq, which enjoyed indisput-
able international legitimacy, was not immune to these sorts of counter-
consideration, which manifested themselves in the distortions of the
‘‘Oil-for-Food’’ programme.
Given the nature of vested economic interests and domestic political
calculations, any future call for sanctions against other Muslim or Arab
states is likely to elicit even less cooperation and compliance. And given
the fact that Europe, not the United States, is the largest trading partner
for most states in the region, any refusal to exercise potential European
leverage will constitute a particularly wide crack in any wall.
Finally, even the mildest form of US coercion – assistance made con-
tingent on compliance with donor-defined criteria – cannot be effective
if it is only unilateral. There is a whole range of performance standards
that do not immediately produce democracy but do pose longer-term
threats to the viability of authoritarian systems. Some of these are expli-
citly political, such as independent judiciaries, tolerance of civil society,
a free press and the uncontrolled movement of ideas. Some are implicit
in economic restructuring, such as financial transparency, the sanctity of
contracts, campaigns against corruption and the reduction or elimination
of monopolies, licensing arrangements, indirect taxes and other controls
on the movement of people, goods, services and capital. But all of them
go to the heart of how bureaucratic-patrimonial regimes survive. The
European Union made an effort to promote some of these standards in
the EMP through a variety of inducements, but it never threatened to
withhold these ‘‘carrots’’ in the event of failure to comply. Nor did its in-
dividual members make their own assistance programmes contingent on
conformity by regional recipients with their standards of governance. In
part, they probably hoped that any incidental economic improvement
would reduce the pressures causing illegal immigration into Europe. In
part, they were responsive to complaints that such action would consti-
tute unwarranted interference in domestic affairs and contempt for the
sovereign rights of recipient states. By and large, US policy in the past
operated in a similar manner. But even if post-9/11, post-Afghanistan,
post-Iraq thinking augurs a change in US behaviour in this regard, that
change cannot have a truly decisive impact unless it is simultaneously im-
plemented by a sufficient number of other providers of financial, techni-
cal and/or security assistance – and resistance to that sort of coordinated
implementation has already compelled the United States to water down
its more ambitious plans for a ‘‘Greater Middle East Initiative’’ and
make do, instead, with yet another set of anodyne aid programmes of
the sort that have failed, in the past, to produce significant transformation
in the economics or politics of the region.
Uni-multipolarity in the international system
All in all, the implications of these conflicting impulses are clear. In the
international system, the United States is not even ‘‘first among equals’’
because there are no presumptive equals. Instead, it is the pre-eminent
actor in almost every respect, particularly in respect of military power.
As a result, it has the capacity, along with the will, to act unilaterally
when it feels that its vital interests are threatened. And it certainly has
the capacity to resist demands by others eager to constrain it in the hope
of transforming the international system into a kind of European Union
writ large, in which some components of identity and sovereignty are
transferred to supranational institutions, all disputes are settled peace-
fully on the basis of supranational consensus or international law defined
by multilateral consultation and negotiation, and force (except in totally
unambiguous and highly unusual instances of self-defence against direct
aggression) is effectively banished from the repertoire of foreign policy.
At the same time, however, US power alone is far from sufficient to
accomplish ambitious goals of conflict resolution between states and of
political and social transformation within states that are the source of
170 MARK A. HELLER
the most palpable political-security threats. To act effectively against

these threats, the United States will need to convince others of the nature
and immediacy of these threats and of the legitimacy of the actions it pro-
poses to take against them. ‘‘Others’’ does not necessarily mean global or
even regional institutions and organizations. There can be no delusion
about the near impossibility of mobilizing universal support based on
general principles for anything the United States wishes to do anytime
or anywhere (especially in the Middle East). Nor is it likely that the
United States will agree to condition its policy on such support and thus
find itself in a situation of Gulliver-like paralysis, much less act in ways
it finds distinctly repugnant. For example, it is highly unlikely that the
United States will accede to entreaties by others to pressure Israel into
conceding Arab demands. In this sense, exhortations that the United
States confine itself to the use of ‘‘soft power’’ and subordinate its foreign
policy to the strictures of international law and organizations such as the
United Nations are highly unrealistic.
This reality will not change, regardless of the party in power, at least
until international law and international organizations are themselves
reformed in a manner that reflects the realities of international politics
rather than the platitudes of international diplomacy. International law
needs to address illusions about the rule of law in lawless environments
and about the problem of effective immunity for non-state actors or
rogue states that operate outside its confines. Most importantly, it needs
to confront the absurdity of granting terrorists and their state sponsors
and apologists a seemingly legitimate role in the elaboration, interpreta-
tion and enforcement of the law; in properly functioning legal systems,
they would be recused on grounds of clear conflict of interest. And inter-
national organizations need to address the incongruities of a system still
formally based on the legal fiction of sovereign equality, as conceived at
Westphalia more than 350 years ago, without regard to the normative
content of the system or the character of its members. Under current
operating rules, institutions such as the General Assembly and the UN
Commission on Human Rights are often dismissed because they re-
semble the proverbial hen house guarded by the foxes.
It would be wrong to attribute this approach only to the so-called
‘‘neoconservatives’’ in the current US administration. The goal of dis-
seminating the United States’ core values and the inclination to act uni-
laterally are persistent themes throughout US history; the dedication to
spreading democracy was associated with Woodrow Wilson, perhaps the
US president most often seen as a liberal internationalist.3 But, unless
the United States actually builds the capacity to impose its will on the en-
tire world (which is improbable) or retreats, once again, into isolationism
(which is only slightly less improbable), it will have to engage in a contin-
uous process of building ad hoc coalitions with like-minded partners.

And building a sufficient base of international sympathy and support
inevitably means some dilution of or compromise over US preferences,
not just on the immediate issue at stake but also, perhaps as part of a
trade-off, on other specific issues or general matters such as environmen-
tal codes of conduct or universal criminal jurisdiction.
As a result, US policy, though probably impelled by an underlying uni-
lateralist impulse, will necessarily include elements of substantial multi-
lateralism. This simply reflects a distribution of power dictating an inter-
national system that is neither truly unipolar nor truly multipolar, but
rather some kind of hybrid that might be termed uni-multipolarity. Still,
the engine at the centre of this variable global geometry is the United
States, and the primary authority and responsibility for determining its
success or failure will remain in US hands for a long time to come.
The implications for Israel
Since its creation, Israel has seen itself as a small power in a hostile envi-
ronment, outnumbered and out-resourced both materially and diplomati-
cally by those arrayed against it. As such, it cannot presume to shape the
world order but must instead adapt itself to it. More to the point, it has
always striven to make sure that it has the support and understanding of
at least one of the major powers. In the first decade or two of the Cold
War, the range of powers willing and able to fill this role was somewhat
broader than it subsequently became. Both France and (to a lesser ex-
tent) the United Kingdom occasionally offered material and diplomatic
backing at a time when the vestiges of empire still endowed them with
great power status. Indeed, France was Israel’s major foreign partner
and virtual ally from the mid-1950s to the mid-1960s, when the conver-
gence of interests that brought the two countries together cracked fol-
lowing Algerian independence. By that time, however, both European
powers had reconciled themselves to the retreat from empire and (with
greater or lesser enthusiasm) to the reality that they could no longer
aspire to the role of global power.
That left only the United States and the Soviet Union, and the Soviet
Union was not a viable option. It is true that in the very early years of
Israel’s independence, when socialist parties were still strong and not yet
ideologically disillusioned, there were prominent voices in the Israeli po-
litical system calling for the country to align itself with the ‘‘progressive
camp’’ in the world; in 1953, the day after Stalin died, the newspaper of
Mapam (a self-proclaimed Marxist party in the governing coalition) de-
clared that the ‘‘light of the earth’’ had gone out. However, it was already
172 MARK A. HELLER
clear since the time of the Korean war that Israel, as a whole, had made a
strategic choice in favour of the West. For the most part, this was because
of a range of normative, cultural and economic affinities. But it was also
the case that the Soviet Union had disqualified itself in Israeli eyes, both
because of a resurgence of government-inspired anti-Semitism at home
and because Soviet foreign policy, in its pursuit of ‘‘anti-imperialist’’ part-
ners in Africa, Asia and Latin America, had dedicated itself to cultivating
‘‘progressive’’ Arab regimes. As a result, the Soviet Union was unavail-
able, whatever Israeli preferences may have been, and, despite some
early frictions in the US–Israeli relationship, the United States became
the default option when it began to make itself available as a strategic
ally for Israel from the mid-1960s onward.
This fundamental need to maintain a close, cooperative relationship
with the United States runs like a thread through the history of Israeli
foreign and security policy for the past four decades and explains, in par-
ticular, Israel’s response to the Iraq crisis both before and after the stage
of active hostilities. In the period leading up to the beginning of the cam-
paign, Israel modulated its posture of non-involvement to take account of
US political needs, to the point where Cabinet ministers – apart from the
foreign affairs and defence ministers – were essentially issued with ‘‘gag
orders’’ by the prime minister. The basic message was that Israel was nei-
ther opposed to the war (unlike many other US allies, Israel could not
possibly risk alienating the administration) nor in favour of it (lest that
compromise the US search for coalition partners and intensify resistance
in the Arab/Muslim world). In fact, to the extent that the public posture
indicated some ambivalence, that accurately reflected real sentiment.
On the one hand, Israel had no particular reason to feel at all solic-
itous of Saddam Hussein. Indeed, it had a long score to settle with him,
stretching back through his active support of Palestinian terrorism (the
US$25,000 reward paid by the Arab Liberation Front to families of
suicide-bombers), through the gratuitous launch of 39 Scud missiles on
Israel during the first Gulf war of 1991 and the dispatch of an Iraqi expe-
ditionary force to the Golan Heights in 1973, all the way to the public
hanging of Iraqi Jews in 1968/1969. On the other hand, Saddam Hussein
contained ‘‘in the box’’ was seen to be less dangerous than Saddam
Hussein placed in a position where he had nothing left to lose. The rea-
son for this calculus has to do with the fact that, apart from the question
of missiles and weapons of mass destruction, Iraq had already dis-
appeared as a strategic actor as far as Israel was concerned. Following
Operation Desert Storm, Iraq had lost whatever capacity it previously
had to contribute a significant expeditionary force to any eastern front, a
scenario that had become even more remote after the Jordanian–Israeli
Peace Agreement in 1994. And Saddam’s contributions to the Palestinian
capacity to threaten Israel, although perhaps of some propaganda value

to him, were ultimately marginal. Even without Iraqi subsidies, there
was no lack of motivation by suicide-bombers to blow themselves up,
and all the rest was little more than sound and fury. Saddam’s much-
vaunted million-man ‘‘Jerusalem army’’, for example, was known to be a
hollow shell. Consequently, Saddam hardly inspired more fear among Is-
raelis in this respect than he did hope among thoughtful Palestinians.
However, Saddam’s missiles and WMD were a rather different matter.
For the most part, Israeli pre-war intelligence assessments conformed to
those of the United States and the United Kingdom, and any analysts who
may have had reservations about these assessments were reluctant to ex-
press them, primarily because of the professional (and self-protecting)
bias in favour of worst-case analysis. The operating assumption was that
Iraq retained or had reconstructed a small number of usable delivery
systems and perhaps some WMD warheads – chemical and biological if
not nuclear. The missiles themselves were not of overwhelming concern
if armed with conventional warheads, since even those not intercepted
could do only a minimal amount of damage. But the presumed WMD
warheads were a different matter. As long as Saddam stayed contained
or subject only to the kind of attack that preserved the possibility of his
political and personal survival, it was felt that the threat of further escala-
tion, including Israeli retaliation, could deter him from using WMD. But
the worst-case scenario, which most preoccupied defence planners and
analysts, was one in which he was left with no prospect of survival and
might lash out in sheer vengefulness or in a final effort to secure his his-
torical reputation. In other words, Israel believed that it had more reason
to fear forcible regime change in Iraq than a perpetuation of the status
quo. For this reason, although Israel would shed no tears over Saddam’s
demise and could not, in any case, express any reservations about what
the United States was determined to do, it was far less enthusiastic about
the war in Iraq than was portrayed by those eager to depict the war as
some kind of US–Israeli conspiracy or even an Israeli objective foisted
on an unwitting US administration.4
Israel’s margin of manoeuvre is similarly constrained in the post–Cold
War uni-multipolar world order that persists after Iraq – not that this is a
particularly uncomfortable system in which to operate. After all, Israel
benefits from a very intimate relationship that transcends party lines in
the United States and extends beyond the executive branch into Con-
gress and public opinion. This relationship is underpinned by a set of
shared values as well as shared perspectives on issues that are of greatest
concern to Israel, such as terrorism, the proliferation of weapons of mass
destruction, rogue states and manipulation by adversaries of interna-
tional organizations and international law. At the same time, there is a
174 MARK A. HELLER
prudential reluctance to put all its eggs in the same basket, and Israel
would certainly prefer to diversify its foreign relations ‘‘portfolio’’ to the
extent that is possible. Indeed, it has invested considerable resources in
cultivating other, rising powers, such as China, India, Russia and Turkey,
in addition to Europe. This diversification is reflected in patterns of
foreign trade, including defence-industrial trade. In the current and fore-
seeable circumstances, however, these other powers are not as available,
attractive or reliable as partners in the political-security domain. Further-
more, even if the gap in political-security ‘‘weight’’ separating them from
the United States were smaller, the political cost of pursuing a closer
partnership with them would in some cases be unacceptably high – either
because of the political conditions attached or because of the opportunity
cost incurred by alienating the United States. The former consideration
applies in particular to Europe; the latter applies to China (as evidenced
by the Israeli decision, under intense US pressure, to cancel a sale of the
Falcon airborne warning-and-control system).
All in all, Israel has no particular reason to find intolerable a uni-
multipolar world order in which the ‘‘uni’’ part is its closest ally and
strongest supporter. Since it is too small to have any significant impact
on the way the international order has evolved or is evolving, this is al-
most certainly as much a function of good luck as of good planning. In
this case, however, the result is more important than the cause.
Notes
1. Mohammed Ayoob and Matthew Zierler use the phrase ‘‘unipolar concert’’ to describe
essentially the same phenomenon in their contribution to this volume (Chapter 3).
2. Interview in Time Magazine, 24 February 2003.
3. Melvyn P. Leffler, ‘‘Bush’s Foreign Policy’’, Foreign Policy (September/October 2004),
pp. 22–23.
4. Even the most critical analyses of exaggerated Israeli intelligence assessments of Iraq’s
pre-war capabilities acknowledge that Israel had consistently stressed, in dialogues with
US counterparts, that the Iraqi threat was under control and that the Iranian threat was
far more serious. However, ‘‘[o]nce the Bush administration decided to take action
against Iraq, it was more difficult for Israel to maintain its position that dealing with
Iraq was not the highest priority’’. Shlomo Brom, ‘‘Israeli Intelligence on Iraq: An Intel-
ligence Failure?’’, Strategic Assessment, Vol. 6, No. 3 (November 2003), pp. 15–16.
10
Egypt and the Iraq war
Ibrahim A. Karawan
As in the rest of the Arab world, the tendency in Egypt was to see the US
military intervention in Iraq not just as one more Western intervention in
the region, but as a manifestation of a restructuring of the international
system to enforce a world order led by the United States, with the Middle
East considered as the launching pad of such global alteration. Political
activists and analysts alike in Egypt argued that the aggregate power of
the United States, reflected in its massive military strength, economic
wealth, technological edge and political leverage, gives it a decided su-
periority that all other states and international institutions cannot match
or effectively block.
The 1991 war in the Gulf was an early attempt by the United States to
project its newly acquired power against Iraq to liberate Kuwait from oc-
cupation while the Soviet Union was in the process of rapid disintegra-
tion. The US military intervention, with the objective of changing the re-
gime in Iraq under the banner of strategic pre-emption and outside the
scope of international legitimacy, was seen by Egyptian observers as a
full-blown design to reshape the region and a message to the rest of the
world that the United States’ predominance had become a fact of life and
a strategic reality.
In mapping its policy options with regard to the Iraq war in 2003, the
Egyptian regime was caught between the requirements of its role as a
regional actor striving to exercise influence in the Arab world and the
imperatives of its close relations with the United States as a predomin-
ant arms supplier, a major aid donor, a political backer and a strategic
175
176 IBRAHIM A. KARAWAN
partner since the late 1970s. In addition, the regime had to consider its
domestic political climate, in which an attentive public had become in-
creasingly anti-American owing to the Palestinian–Israeli conflict, the
tensions in the Gulf and the growth of sentiments associated with politi-
cal Islam in society at large.
This chapter will examine the interaction of these factors and how they
shaped Egyptian perceptions of the US military intervention in Iraq and
the implications for Egyptian policy toward the Iraq war. In addition, it
will analyse the debates that emerged in Egyptian society regarding the
impact of the war on the international order and the desirable and feas-
ible options available to the current Egyptian regime concerning the roles
of both the United States and the United Nations in the Middle East. For
the Egyptian regime, addressing all these considerations is like balancing
on a tightrope between the regime’s reluctance to take any radical posi-
tion that could disrupt its relations with the United States and its prefer-
ence for an active role by the United Nations and its system of collective
security. According to Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, Egypt can
never lose sight of its main priority – ‘‘[p]rotecting the home front from
the repercussions of this war and rais[ing] high the banner of Egyptian
national security . . . Egypt’s position was, and still is, in opposition to
this war and it will not take part in military operations against brotherly
Iraq.’’1
A US-dominated world order?
Whereas some political actors in Egypt saw the US hegemony as an ines-

capable strategic reality, others maintained the belief that strategic real-
ities can be reversed by acts presumed to cement such realities, as the
2003 war in Iraq was supposed to do. For the latter, the basic issue was
not whether US policy makers wanted to establish a position not just of
primacy but also of global dominance. Rather, it was whether US eco-
nomic and political conditions at home could make it possible to have a
sustained and coordinated pursuit of such hegemonic designs. Large-
scale and protracted conquests, such as the one that the United States
launched in Iraq, tend to be especially costly in economic, human and po-
litical terms. In that sense, the Iraq war in 1991 was not a representative
example but a deviant case from which it is not possible to assess the fu-
ture course of US behaviour in the post–Cold War era.
The optimists in this Egyptian debate believed that a preponderance of
military power does not translate automatically into an effective exercise
of leverage. In other words, the possession of immense power measured
in material resources does not necessarily translate into power as influ-
EGYPT AND THE IRAQ WAR 177
ence and leverage. Usama al-Baz, a senior foreign policy adviser to Pres-
ident Mubarak, is an advocate of the notion that the international system
has been moving toward multipolarity. Although US military power ap-
pears to be expanding, the political utility of reliance on military power
is in a state of relative decline. Such power, according to al-Baz, is no
longer the primary currency in international politics because the financial
costs of large-scale and prolonged military intervention have become
burdensome, even for the mightiest military powers. Domestic factors in
such countries, including the United States, deserve more analytic atten-
tion.
Thus, from such a perspective, foreign policy predicated on the as-
sumption of an unchallenged US hegemony would be problem ridden be-
cause the international realities are more complicated than suggested by
the logic of a fleeting ‘‘unipolar moment’’. Not only is the international
system in transition, but the choices made by regional actors can also
play an important role in shaping policy outcomes. It may be instructive,
for instance, to refer to how two Middle Eastern states, Iran and Syria,
took advantage of the US stalemate in Iraq to enhance their bargaining
positions in relation to the United States, despite the decisive power
asymmetry between each country and the United States.
Other examples of the perceived limits of structural factors in deter-
mining the positions of states in conflict areas and of the argument that
US dominance is not necessarily compelling may be seen in the following:
1. Turkey’s rejection of deployment by the United States, another NATO
member, through its borders with Iraq, despite US power, was a sign
that political reform may not necessarily produce outcomes that are
favourable to or congruent with US policies or élite preferences.
2. Despite Saudi Arabia’s strategic reliance on the United States, its
leadership decided, owing to public opinion among other factors, to
limit US military access to some of its most sophisticated and strategi-
cally located airbases.
3. Although the United States refused to rule out any significant Euro-
pean role at the beginning of the armed intervention in Iraq, the grow-
ing difficulties faced by the United States seem to have convinced its
leaders to seek incremental rapprochement with Europe, as much as
possible, in order to increase the chances of multilateral action.
4. The previous point applies also to the case of the United Nations in
Iraq, particularly concerning the elections in that country, whose legit-
imacy required going beyond US unilateral action and legitimizing
and accepting the role of the United Nations.
5. The same asymmetry exists in Iran’s relations with the United States,
although US policy makers must take into account the economic and
political price that society and its élites may be willing to pay for exter-
nal involvement where the immediate security interests of the domi-

nant power are not directly at stake.
Egyptian commentators in Al-Ahram newspaper entertained the hope
that opposition to US policies in Iraq on the part of many European
states, particularly by France and Germany, would constrain the United
States and influence the shape of the post-war settlement. They took
note in particular of the statements made by President Chirac at the
meeting of the heads of European states and governments in Brussels at
which he announced that ‘‘France will not accept any UN resolution le-
gitimating the military intervention and giving the Anglo-American bel-
ligerents the right to administer Iraq [after the end of hostilities]’’.2
Challenges to the UN role

Viewed from Cairo, once more, international crises such as that in Iraq
since 2003 have resulted in a situation in which the Middle East has
emerged as the region where the features of the world order at large
have manifested themselves most clearly. Before that, and going back to
the post-1956 war era, the parameters of the bipolar world were very ob-
vious. In the 1973 war, the features of conflict management under condi-
tions of détente between the superpowers were demonstrated. By 1991 in
the Gulf, the characteristics of the new world order were beginning to
take shape.
From this perspective, the war against Iraq has reflected both the US
drive toward dominance and opposition to US hegemony through the ef-
forts of France, Germany, Russia and China. Put differently, the United
States led a military intervention in Iraq with no regard for international
legality, and the aforementioned powers mounted a political and diplo-
matic campaign to, in effect, isolate United States policy and place
greater reliance on the United Nations.3 That diplomatic and political
campaign was influenced by the assertiveness of civil society organiza-
tions against the United States’ campaign in Iraq. The international rift
between the major powers reflects a certain rivalry over ‘‘status’’ and a
sense of efficacy more than it reflects primarily any differences over the
well-being or welfare of the Iraqi people.
With regard to the role or weight of the United Nations, many analysts
in Egypt worried that tensions between the veto-holding members of the
Security Council over the US intervention and the prolonged war in Iraq
might end up reducing or dooming the international organization to a
state of irrelevance. US President George W. Bush argued during the
crisis that the United Nations would face serious risks if it failed to live
up to its responsibilities and to act against the Iraqi threat. This threat
evoked the precedent of US military intervention in the Balkans without

the backing of the United Nations.
For many concerned Egyptian analysts, despite the imperfections of
the United Nations, a world without it would be a world of anarchy and
unpredictability as well as instability.4 The United Nations has been
active in arenas other than Iraq, and an initial US–UK monopoly over
the situation in Iraq should not necessarily indicate the demise of the
United Nations and its role in the domain of international security. Be-
fore Iraq, in Afghanistan, Somalia, Lebanon, Cambodia, Mozambique
and Angola, the United Nations was not simply a helpless actor manipu-
lated by the United States, and it should not be expected to go down the
path of the League of Nations. Advocates of such perspectives in Egypt
argue along the lines of former UN Secretary-General Hammarskjöld
that the main task of the United Nations is not to turn the world into a
paradise but to prevent it from becoming a living hell. It is in that sense
that the United Nations is still relevant, at least in depriving those who
resort to military pre-emption of international legitimacy.5
Serious worries about the viability and effectiveness of the United
Nations, particularly the Security Council, continue to be expressed in
Egypt and the Arab world. The decision of the United States under the
George W. Bush administration ultimately to ignore the Security Council
and resort to the use of force after it had become clear that it was un-
likely to win in Security Council deliberations and rally a simple majority
of Council member states in support of a war resolution has not only
weakened the international legitimacy of the US military intervention in
Iraq but also weakened the effectiveness of the United Nations and its
role in the field of international security. A paradigm that legitimizes the
use of force to settle political scores may create precedents that could re-
place the UN advocacy of the peaceful settlement of international dis-
putes.6
The conflict and war in Iraq have posed significant challenges to the
authority of the United Nations, and the future of world governance as
a whole came to be at the mercy of the way in which the US administra-
tion reacted to the situation in the Gulf and to international terrorism.
‘‘By insisting on using force outside the United Nations system, it made
clear that the multilateral control on the use of force which has been the
hallmark of world order since 1945 no longer held.’’7 This was demon-
strated by the policy prescriptions put forward in September 2002 by the
National Security Strategy of the United States of America, which advo-
cated the resort to unilateral pre-emption if deemed necessary by the
United States to stop so-called rogue states and their terrorist clients
threatening the United States and its allies. According to this doctrine,
the United States must forestall or prevent these hostile acts and, if nec-
essary, resort to pre-emptive military reaction regardless of the availabil-

ity of international backing and without any recourse to collective secu-
rity under the United Nations.
In the case of Afghanistan, the UN endorsement of military action by
the United States was rather tacit. In the case of Iraq, as Egypt saw it, the
United States obtained neither implicit nor explicit endorsement by the
international organization. That is why, when military action was immi-
nent, the United States and the United Kingdom decided not to seek UN
approval because it was clear that such approval would not be forthcom-
ing, even from countries with which the two states had historically had
close relations. The fears expressed in Egypt were that the United States’
behaviour might provide a precedent or lead to a contagion effect among
other powers in the name of averting attacks or threats, whether conven-
tional, by terrorist groups or by weapons of mass destruction. These fears
implied greater tension, arms races and an unbridled resort to power in
the absence of another superpower that could stand up to the supremacy
of the superpower at the top of the pyramid of the international system.
Despite the superiority of the United States in terms of its vast power
capabilities, much about the future of international order may depend on
how it manages its resources and avoids what may be characterized as the
temptations of excessive unilateralism as well as overextension. Accord-
ing to the prominent Egyptian writer and political activist, Mohamed Sid-
Ahmed, ‘‘[t]his seems to be the challenge that will determine the future
of our world’’.8
According to this view, US policy on Iraq benefited from an ambiguity
in Security Council Resolution 1441, similar to the one that afflicted Res-
olution 242 on the Middle East settlement. Whereas some thought Reso-
lution 1441 required the United States to obtain yet another decision
from the Security Council to authorize the use of force against the Iraqi
state, the Bush foreign policy and national security team insisted that it
was required only to ‘‘consult’’ with members of the UN Security Council
before unleashing its own massive military intervention, and had no obli-
gation to seek a second resolution by the Council or to get its endorse-
ment. Because Security Council resolutions are sometimes passed as a re-
sult of complex compromises, their inconsistencies and ambiguities may
gloss over sharp differences among states, as was the case in Resolution
242, which was not implemented because of such ambiguities.9
As a result, the view from Cairo is that, far from containing terrorism,
the war in Iraq has made the country a haven for a number of transna-
tional terrorist groups, which have expanded their activities under the
conditions of anarchy prevailing at least in certain parts of Iraq. Egyptian
policy makers and analysts tend to conclude that there is thus little likeli-
hood of serious reconstruction in Iraq in the short run. In fact, since the
US intervention Iraq has become a centre of terrorism and the offices in

the UN compound in Baghdad have come under violent attack by ter-
rorist groups. Thus, the security of UN personnel was compromised fur-
ther at a time when more members of the ‘‘coalition of the willing’’ were
expressing interest in reducing, if not eliminating, their military presence
and role in Iraq and other countries were continuing to refuse to deploy
their troops to Iraq as long as these troops were not under the command
and direction of the United Nations.10
According to foreign policy adviser al-Baz, a political solution in which
the United Nations would play a major role was the only realistic and
prudent way to deal with the Iraq issue. Before the 2003 war, al-Baz ar-
gued that Iraq had to be dealt with along the lines stipulated by interna-
tional law, that international inspectors of weapons of mass destruction
should be allowed to pursue their comprehensive inspection unhindered,
and, finally, that any US military action should be decided upon only with
an international consensus through the United Nations.11
Less than a year later, al-Baz acknowledged the complex balancing act
in which the Egyptian regime was forced to engage. On the one hand,
with the objective of ensuring Iraq’s compliance with its commitments to
eliminate weapons of mass destruction, Egypt was in favour of persuad-
ing the United States to act within the boundaries of international legiti-
macy and secure solid international backing to make sure that the stabil-
ity and territorial integrity of Iraq itself would not be compromised. On
the other hand, Egypt did not want the United States to get involved in
a military and political quagmire in Iraq. Since Egypt’s leadership was
aware that the United States was not likely to rule out military options,
Egyptian policy as expressed by al-Baz was that the United States should
have allowed enough time to examine and assess all possible policy op-
tions before embarking on any military action in Iraq, particularly given
the escalation of anti-US feelings in the Arab world. After all, the Middle
East had witnessed greater instability since 11 September 2001, and any
large-scale military action by the United States was likely to increase re-
gional instability, radicalism and unpredictability, well beyond Iraq and
its ethnic and religious divisions.
To avoid such destabilizing spillover effects, Egypt proposed an open
discussion or exchange of views between the United States and Egypt,
with the participation of other Arab countries, possibly including Jordan,
Saudi Arabia and Morocco. Such discussions would have extended to
examining how to put the stalemated Palestinian–Israeli peace process
back on track and break the vicious cycle between the parties by holding
them accountable. As al-Baz put it, Washington had to become politically
engaged in this process instead of leaving the escalating crisis simmering
on the so-called back burner. Otherwise, the radical elements working
against peace in the region might become stronger. Europe, the United
Nations and the United States could play a role in implementing the
road map to peace and thus avoid a risky regional outcome.12
The demise of the Arab order

It was not just global diplomacy that failed to find a peaceful way out of
the crisis over Iraq and its rapid acceleration into a full-fledged war; di-
plomacy at the regional and Arab levels also failed to identify a viable
political alternative to US-led military action against Iraq in March 2003.
Perhaps the most striking illustration of that failure occurred when the
Sharm el-Sheikh Arab summit decided to assign a high-level Arab dele-
gation that included five foreign ministers and Amr Moussa, the Secre-
tary General of the Arab League, to hold talks with top-ranking US and
Iraqi officials to identify a possible solution to the crisis. However, the
delegation was not received by either US officials or their Iraqi counter-
parts and, thus, the mission was terminated with no result. As Salama A.
Salama of al-Ahram pointed out, ‘‘Given the pressing nature of the time-
table, one cannot quite allay the suspicion that the [Arab] summit [in
Sharm el-Sheikh] is nothing but an exercise in passing the buck. It will
have no effect because it is not intended to have one.’’13
It is possible to argue that the US side was not prepared to give this
delegation any guarantees that military action by the United States was
not imminent, and Iraqi officials would not, and possibly could not, dis-
cuss with the Arab delegation anything pertaining to the potential exile
of Saddam Hussein and his sons from Iraq. Whatever the reasons, the co-
alition represented by the Arab League was not even remotely able to
persuade either side to modify the fundamentals of its position. The fail-
ure of this delegation to meet anyone on either side of the crisis might
have been a slap in the face of Arab diplomacy and a sign that the diplo-
matic route as a whole was increasingly perceived as superfluous in mak-
ing a difference to the course of the crisis that was intensifying in the
region.14
It is important to recall here the argument by Roger Owen that, ‘‘[a]t
previous times of crisis or change within the international system, a stock
Arab reaction has been to call for a united response to the challenge they
face’’.15 In most cases, however, a collective Arab response has never
materialized. The threat was not really seen as a collective one, and
some Arab states had provided their own military facilities for use by
US forces. This explains some states’ preference, while a divided Arab
world dithered over what it was permissible to denounce, for bilateral
arrangements with the United States and under its security umbrella,
regardless of what they said in their media. Perhaps that is why some
pan-Arabist circles describe their vulnerable position with terms such
as in’idam al-wazn (weightlessness), tahmish (marginalization), ma’zaq
(predicament), and azmah-karethah (crisis disaster).16
As a result, the Arab system was not able to make a difference to the
mother of all Arab causes, namely the Palestinian issue vis-à-vis Israel,
let alone the case of Iraq being attacked by the United States. In practice,
Arab state preferences have taken precedence over all pan-Arabist
claims. Egypt’s prominent writer Mohamed H. Heikal attributed the ero-
sion of the pan-Arabist camp and the weakening of the Arab world to the
dramatic defection of Egypt from the Arab coalition and its disengage-
ment from the Arab–Israeli conflict.17 It is not self-evident, however,
that Egypt had the ability to maintain the struggle for ever or that a con-
sensus on its leadership had existed at the Arab level. It is more likely
that the state of fragmentation in the Arab order made it even more dif-
ficult for Arab states to cope effectively with the Iraq war.
It was Robert Fisk of the UK newspaper The Independent who popu-
larized the question during the Iraq war: ‘‘What on earth is it with the
Arabs?’’ While millions of protesters marched in Europe and Asia
against the looming war in Iraq, Arab capitals were indeed largely quiet
in what was described as a ‘‘deafening silence’’.18 One Arab intellectual
argued that the Arabs are in fact torn between authoritarian regimes that
lack the political power to express their national will and aspirations pos-
itively, and a superpower that wants to implement its control over the re-
gion. In the words of Talal Salman, editor of al-Safir newspaper,
It is a sad reality that people around the world were able to express their views on
the Iraq crisis while all of us took refuge in silence. [Many] regimes in the Arab
world believe they can buy their survival from the United States by discreetly
agreeing to American plans, while publicly denouncing the U.S. and suppressing
all forms of public resentment.19
This is, of course, related to what has come to be known as the role of
the Arab street in constraining the foreign policies of its current political
regimes.20
Egyptian state strategies

It was not particularly difficult for the Egyptian state to contain the small
demonstrations against the US military intervention in Iraq that erupted
in Cairo and other large Egyptian cities. In Egypt and other Arab coun-
tries there was an expectation that, even in any relatively small demon-
strations and riots against the Iraq war, opposition movements would
seize the opportunity to benefit from coverage by news media and satel-
lite television stations to mobilize support among intellectuals and in
the street. Arab satellite TV stations have influenced the perception of
viewers in Egypt and in other Arab countries. Perhaps no previous war
has been so extensively covered by various news sources around the
clock. In Egypt, the anti-riot police forces backed by armoured personnel
carriers were mobilized to prevent and deter potential demonstrators.
Thus, while the opposition wanted to use the Iraq war to discredit the re-
gime, policy makers made sure there were adequate coercive instruments
to contain the challenges posed by Islamist, Nasserite and leftist opposi-
tion groups, who were shouting such things as ‘‘We won’t bow, we won’t
bow, we are sick of the quiet voice’’, and ‘‘Build more prison cells, to-
morrow the revolution will come and leave no one’’.21
Many political activists in Egypt were arrested for their activities
against the war in Iraq, and their cases were supported by groups such
as Human Rights Watch, the Egyptian Organization for Human Rights
and the Egyptian Press Syndicate. In these instances, condemnations of
the war and of state repression, as well demands for political reform, po-
litical liberalization and cancellation of the emergency laws, were pack-
aged together in the demand, ‘‘No to war . . . No to tyranny’’.22
Repression was not the only means through which the Egyptian state
tried to cope with the situation. President Mubarak called for an urgent
Arab summit meeting in Sharm el-Sheikh saying, ‘‘We must show our
people that we are making an effort to stop the war.’’ As Ahmed Maher,
Egypt’s foreign minister, made clear, ‘‘There is anger on the streets be-
cause there is a feeling that Muslim countries are under attack.’’23 The
official media were allowed by the state to take militant positions that
might be even more extreme than the positions taken by opposition
newspapers during the war in terms of denouncing the US policy of
force in Iraq. The ruling National Democratic Party organized Egypt’s
largest rally against the war, with probably 600,000 protesters taking
part. As in other Arab countries, the regime proved able to co-opt the
street, even to emasculate the protest, and make its citizens watch the
war on television.
Thus, little threat to regime security has materialized. Regimes had
enough time and resources to take steps to maintain political control, in-
cluding occasional talk about reform, which, according to officials, has to
come from within and not from outside, to be incremental not radical,
and to be consistent with Arab cultural specificity. The Egyptian state
also engaged in a few symbolic acts as manifestations of gradual reform,
such as abolishing law no. 105 regulating state security courts and estab-
lishing a national council for human rights.24 The top priority of the re-
gime, however, is to weaken any opposition movement that might trans-

late frustration in Egyptian society into organized political action.25
Notes
1. Nevine Khalil, ‘‘Walking a Tight Rope’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, 2 April 2003.

2. ‘‘France to Resist US Plans for Iraq’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, 27 March 2003.
3. Osama El-Ghazali Harb, ‘‘As Another World Emerges’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 626
(20–26 February 2003). For the explanations given by Mohamed Hassanein Heikal of
the US policy in Iraq, see Amira Howeidy, ‘‘Heikal’s Dream’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No.
607 (10–16 October 2002).
4. Nyier Abdou, ‘‘As the World Turns’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 629 (13–19 March 2003).
5. Abdel-Alim Mohamed, ‘‘A Matter of Relevance’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 632 (3–9
April 2003).
6. Ayman El-Amir, ‘‘A World United against War’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 630 (20–26
March 2003).
7. ‘‘The Death of the UN’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 631 (27 March–2 April 2003).
8. Mohamed Sid-Ahmed, ‘‘Challenging America’s Hyperpowerdom’’, Al-Ahram Weekly,
No. 640 (29 May–4 June 2003).
9. Mohamed Sid-Ahmed, ‘‘Degenerating into Chaos’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 653 (28
August–3 September 2003).
10. Ibid.
11. Nevine Khalil, ‘‘The Rules of the Game’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 609 (20–26 June 2002).
12. Osama al-Baz, ‘‘Special Policy Forum Report: Iraq and the Middle East – A View from
Cairo’’, Washington Institute for Near East Policy, PolicyWatch, No. 711 (13 February
2003).
13. Salama Ahmad Salama, ‘‘Passing the Buck’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 626 (20–26 Febru-
ary 2003).
14. Abdel-Moneim Said, ‘‘A Problem with the World’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 613 (21–27
November 2002).
15. Roger Owen, ‘‘A New Post-Cold War System?’’ Middle East Report, Vol. 23, No. 5
(September–October 1993), p. 3.
16. Ibrahim Karawan, ‘‘Arab Dilemmas in the 1990s: Breaking Taboos and Searching for
Signposts’’, Middle East Journal, Vol. 48, No. 3 (Summer 1994), p. 441.
17. Amira Howeidy, ‘‘Heikal’s Dream’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, 10–16 October 2002.
18. Omayma Abdel-Latif, ‘‘Arab Apathy’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 627 (27 February–
5 March 2003). See also Hassan Nafaa, ‘‘End of the Arab Order?’’ Al-Ahram Weekly,
No. 631 (27 March–2 April 2003); Jim Lobe, ‘‘Arab Public Opinion Deeply Ambivalent
about U.S.’’, Inter Press Service, 9 October 2004; Marc Lynch, ‘‘Taking Arabs Seri-
ously’’, Foreign Affairs, September/October 2003; and Shibley Telhami, ‘‘Double Blow
to Middle East Democracy’’, Washington Post, 1 May 2004, p. A21.
19. Abdel-Latif, ‘‘Arab Apathy’’.
20. Asef Bayat, ‘‘The Street and the Politics of Dissent in the Arab World’’, Middle East
Report, Spring 2003; Hossam el-Hamlawy, ‘‘Closer to the Street’’, Cairo Times, 6–19
February 2003; and Sherine Bahaa, ‘‘Arabs Show Their Rage’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No.
631 (27 March–2 April 2003).
21. Amira Howeidy, ‘‘Where Did All the Anger Go?’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 626 (20–26
February 2003); and Paul Schemm, ‘‘Egypt Struggles to Control Anti-War Protests’’,
Middle East Report, 31 March 2003.
22. International Crisis Group, The Challenge of Political Reform: Egypt after the Iraq War,
Middle East Briefing, Cairo/Brussels, 30 September 2003; Mohamed Sid-Ahmed, ‘‘No
to War . . . No to Tyranny’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 627 (27 February–5 March 2003);
Mona El-Ghobashy, ‘‘Egypt’s Summer of Discontent’’, Middle East Report, 18 Septem-
ber 2003; and Tamir Moustafa, ‘‘Protests Hint at New Chapter in Egyptian Politics’’,
Middle East Report, 9 April 2004.
23. Nevine Khalil, ‘‘End of the Road’’, Al-Ahram Weekly, No. 628 (6–12 March 2003). See
Jonathan Schanzer, ‘‘The Arab Street and the War: Are Regimes in Control?’’, Wash-
ington Institute for Near East Policy, PolicyWatch, No. 729 (21 March 2003).
24. Ibrahim Karawan, ‘‘Security Sector Reform and Retrenchment in the Middle East’’, in
Heiner Hanggi and Theodore H. Winkler, eds, Challenges of Security Sector Gover-
nance (Munster: LIT Verlag, 2003), p. 258.
25. See the statements by Issam El-Erian, member of the Shura Council of the Muslim
Brotherhood, in Omayma Abdel-Latif, ‘‘Preemptive Containment’’, Al-Ahram Weekly,
No. 620 (9–15 January 2003). See also a comprehensive analysis in Ahmed Abdalla,
Egypt before & after September 11, 2001: Problems of Political Transformation in a
Complicated International Setting, Doi-Focus, No. 9 (March 2003); and see also Amr
Hamzawy, The Continued Costs of Political Stagnation in Egypt, Democracy and Rule
of Law Project (Washington DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Febru-
ary 2005).
11
Reactions in the Muslim world
to the Iraq conflict
Amin Saikal
The public reaction to the Iraq war and occupation has been one of al-
most universal opposition in the Muslim world, and has extended to
non-Muslim minorities, especially within its Arab domain. With the ex-
ception of the oil-rich mini-states of Kuwait and, to some extent, Qatar,
as well as Afghanistan, leaderships of all Muslim countries have either
condemned or criticized military actions against Iraq. They have called
for the withdrawal of occupying forces and for UN supervision of Iraq’s
transition, empowerment of the Iraqi people to run their country and res-
toration of Iraq’s independence and sovereignty. Further, they regard the
invasion of Iraq as being against the better judgement of the UN Security
Council, a defiance of international law and a serious threat to regional
stability and international order. In this, they have reflected the mood of
a majority of their populations, which, according to various pre- and post-
war public opinion surveys by Gallup and other agencies, have been anti-
war and anti-American.
This, however, should not hide the diversity of views and attitudes that
have emerged at the levels of élites as distinct from the masses, and of
public as distinct from private circles. While publicly emphasizing an ac-
cord between their policy stand and the attitudes of a majority of their
subjects in common opposition to the US-led military actions, at the pri-
vate level many regimes have nonetheless either acquiesced in US ac-
tions or supported them. In this, they have given effect to different and
shifting ‘‘national interests’’, geopolitical circumstances and political pref-
erences, as defined by rulers of the day. Two bodies that have actively
187
188 AMIN SAIKAL
sought to articulate a collective position on behalf of Arabs/Muslims are

the League of Arab States (or simply the Arab League) and the Organi-
zation of the Islamic Conference (OIC), which includes all Arab League
member states. Yet what these bodies have articulated has provided little
insight into the policy approaches of the individual member states. The
rhetorical or public face presented by them has been as lacking in politi-
cal credibility as have the organizations themselves.
This chapter has three specific objectives. The first is to survey élite po-
sitions in the Muslim world. The second is to assess the collective posi-
tions articulated by the Arab League and the OIC and the private posi-
tion of some of the key Muslim regimes and their diverse dependence on
and vulnerability to Washington. The third is to evaluate various clusters
of attitudes at the popular level and the representativeness and effective-
ness of these positions as expressions of a general popular Muslim per-
ception of the Iraq conflict and the United States.
Élite attitudes
Any discussion of Muslim attitudes to the Iraq conflict must be qualified

by three observations at the outset. One is the prevalence of political
authoritarianism and societal illiberalism and the consequent schism be-
tween state and society in the Muslim world.1 This has engendered a dis-
tinction between what the élites publicly say and what they privately do,
and what the masses aspire to do and what they are able to achieve in
the formulation and conduct of both domestic and foreign policy in most
Muslim countries.2 Another is the varying degrees to which these coun-
tries are vulnerable to US power and influence and can shape their policy
priorities and actions in response to this vulnerability. The third is the
ability of rulers to strike a balance between the demands of the geopolit-
ical circumstances of their countries and the extent to which they can re-
spond to the need to maintain the United States’ favours.
Authoritarianism has produced inherently insecure rulers in most
Muslim countries. A majority of them lack direct public mandates and
popular legitimacy, making them feel insecure in relation to their own
people and to one another.3 As a result, many have found it imperative
either to secure or to be very mindful of an external source of support,
and to take this into account as a major determinant in defining their
national interests. Since the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the
Soviet Union in 1991, US power has become more than ever attractive in
this respect. Yet dependence on the United States has also meant vulner-
ability to US pressure and dictates in one form or another and the neces-
sity to behave in such a way as not to lose Washington’s support.
REACTIONS IN THE MUSLIM WORLD TO THE IRAQ CONFLICT 189
Meanwhile, despite their authoritarian aloofness from the public, the

rulers have found it incumbent to impress upon their publics that they
are not ‘‘stooges’’ of the United States and are responsive to their moods
and expectations when it comes to the issue of wider Muslim solidarity.
There is a felt need to insist to their domestic audience that their indi-
vidual policy behaviour and promotion of national interests are condi-
tioned not exclusively by their need for regime preservation but also by
the dictates of public aspirations. As a consequence, regimes in most
key Muslim states from Morocco, Egypt, Jordan and Saudi Arabia and
its partners in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) to Pakistan have
walked a tightrope to strike a balance between what is demanded of
them to create at least an appearance of domestic legitimacy, and what
is required of them in pursuit of cooperative relations with Washington.
With the exception of Kuwait, where both the state and a majority in the
society have been in favour of US-led military actions, and Afghanistan,
where the Karzai government is totally dependent on the United States
for its survival, all other Muslim governments – whether generally friendly
or adversarial towards the United States – have publicly opposed, though
in various degrees, the military campaign and called for an immediate halt
to hostilities and withdrawal of foreign forces, as well as for UN involve-
ment in Iraq. For example, even three of the United States’ allies, the
Egyptian, Saudi and Pakistani regimes, voiced some very harsh criticisms
of Washington. Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak went as far as to
warn Washington that its military actions could produce hundreds more
bin Ladens and widen rather than diminish the threat of international
terrorism – a warning that was echoed in different ways by many other
Muslim government leaders. President Musharraf of Pakistan refused to
declare his hand on behalf of Pakistan as a non-permanent member of the
UN Security Council (2002–2003) in support of a military campaign, and
firmly cautioned against its destabilizing consequences. The Saudi leader-
ship, despite being the United States’ longest-standing Arab Islamic ally,
not only expressed open opposition to military action but also publicly
announced a refusal, contrary to its position during the Gulf war of 1991
over Kuwait, to make Saudi territory and facilities available to be used
for the invasion of Iraq. This was also the position that was reflected in
the official statements and final communiqués of four major Arab League
and OIC summit meetings held shortly before the Iraq war and after it.
The Arab League and the OIC
Prior to the invasion, the Arab League’s Secretary General, former

Egyptian foreign minister Amr Moussa, raised serious alarm about the
190 AMIN SAIKAL
impending invasion. He called for rapid international and Arab action to

stop it. He reiterated resolutions issued on 1 March 2003 by the Arab
summit held in Sharm el-Sheikh that rejected the use of military force
against Iraq, or for that matter any Arab country, and emphasized the
imperative that there should be no Arab participation in these attacks.
He drew attention to the lack of UN backing for the invasion and there-
fore the illegality of the action.4 To reinforce this position, an emergency
Arab League meeting was called for 22–25 March 2003. In the end, de-
spite Kuwait’s serious objections, the meeting issued a resolution con-
demning ‘‘the US–British military aggression on Iraq – a member state
of the United Nations and of the League of Arab States’’. It deemed the
‘‘aggression’’ in ‘‘violation of the Charter of the United Nations and of
the principles of international law, a deviation from international legality
and a threat to international security and peace’’. It also called ‘‘for the
immediate and unconditional withdrawal of US–British forces from Iraqi
lands, and for making them accountable for the financial, moral and legal
liabilities of this military aggression’’.5
The OIC adopted a similar policy line. In its pre-war summit on 6
March 2003, its 57 member countries essentially decided on a position
that was in full agreement with that of the Arab League. It declared its
‘‘total rejection of any strike on Iraq and any threat to the security of
any Islamic state’’, and called on Muslim countries ‘‘to refrain from
taking part in any military action targeting the security and territorial in-
tegrity of Iraq or any Muslim nation’’. It also rejected the US vision of
reshaping the Middle East and any US attempt to ‘‘impose change in the
region and interfere in its internal affairs’’.6 It reiterated the need for a
peaceful resolution of problems with Iraq. Similarly to the Arab League,
the OIC reinforced its assertions by making it clear that the UN Security
Council had not authorized military action against Iraq nor could such an
action be justified under international law. The OIC also, again like the
Arab League, appealed for the problems with Iraq to be resolved within
the UN framework.
As soon as the Iraq war commenced, the OIC joined forces with the
Arab League to call a special meeting of the UN Security Council to
halt the military conflict. In the OIC’s subsequent meetings in Doha,
Tehran and Kuala Lumpur over the next year, it reaffirmed its opposition
to Iraq’s occupation, with a call for the withdrawal of foreign forces in fa-
vour of the United Nations’ taking over the administration of Iraq’s tran-
sition and restoration of Iraqi sovereignty.
Yet neither the Arab League nor the OIC proposed any practical mea-
sures to enforce their resolutions or achieve their declared objectives.
They contented themselves with hollow appeals to the occupying powers
and the United Nations, while knowing that their calls would fall on deaf
ears. The problem with the Arab League and OIC positions from the
start was two-fold. First, these organizations arose in 1945 and 1969, re-
spectively, in response to a need of many Arab and Muslim leaders to
show a semblance of unity based on shared, intertwined factors of Arab-
ism and Muslim identity against challenges from inside and outside their
domains. However, in the absence of concrete common political prin-
ciples, ideological values and mechanisms and instruments of policy en-
forcement to bind them together, they have had little on which they
could rely to enable them to elevate themselves beyond formulating a
collective position to give practical expression to that position on vital
foreign policy issues.
During the Cold War, when most of the OIC members joined the
Non-Aligned Movement from the late 1950s and 1960s, they were in
practice haunted by and divided over a variety of questions, ranging
from what to do with the Palestinian problem and how to protect them-
selves against rival major powers to how to deal with the challenges of
modernization versus traditionalism. As it turned out, they dissipated
most of their energy and resources on defending themselves against one
another and securing the favours of one superpower against the other,
rather than forging a united front in world politics. The disintegration
of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War did not bring any
major change in this respect. If anything, the constraint of the politics of
global bipolarity was lifted, enabling OIC members to become more dar-
ing and competitive against one another in search of security in a world
dominated by one superpower – the United States. The deference of
their regimes to the power and influence of the United States did not
allow most of them to reconcile their private positions with their public
rhetoric on many issues, including, most importantly, the latest Iraq
conflict.
The meetings of the League and the OIC prior to the invasion of Iraq
were marred by fundamental disputes between Iraq and Kuwait. Small
but oil-rich Kuwait constantly accused Iraq of threatening its sovereignty
and independence, based on Iraq’s past claims on Kuwait and its 1990 in-
vasion. On the other hand, Iraq persistently painted Kuwait as a bridge-
head enabling the United States to achieve its ‘‘imperialist designs’’
against Iraq and for that matter the Arab nation and Muslim world, and
pressured other participants to side with it. The acrimonious exchanges
between the two degenerated into a circus at the early and late March
2003 meetings of the League and the OIC. Whereas Saudi Arabia and
other oil-rich GCC members backed Kuwait and used their oil muscle to
influence others to do the same, other participants walked a tightrope
with a view to not being seen either as upholding Iraq’s position or as of-
fending the United States and its GCC allies.7
192 AMIN SAIKAL
The charade behind that meeting was typical of many other meetings
of the two organizations following the invasion of Iraq. The outcome of
the meetings was always a compromise between pro-US and anti-US ele-
ments, with a number of other members, including those with strong na-
tionalist or pro-Arabist or pro-Islamist leanings, finding themselves with
the awkward task of maintaining and projecting the image of unity to the
outside world. Even when finally the League and the OIC found it neces-
sary to invite the representative of the US-appointed Iraqi Interim Gov-
erning Council and its successor, the Iraqi Interim Government, to take
up the Iraq seat from 1 June 2004, the struggle between those opposing
and those supporting a dominant US role in the Arab and Muslim worlds
underlined the ineffectiveness of the League and the OIC. Although their
members have publicly adopted a common position, in private those
members have had little hesitation in undermining that position by pursu-
ing policy actions beneficial to their individual interests.
Élites’ private positions
The very leaders who publicly levelled serious criticism at the United
States assured Washington in private that, as many in the Bush adminis-
tration have claimed, they would do nothing to hinder or cause difficulties
for the United States in achieving its objectives. All of them have used
repressive measures wherever required to control anti-war dissent and
active opposition in their countries. No leaders were more assertive in
this respect than those of Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and Jordan.
This was true even in the case of the government of the Islamic Republic
of Iran – a staunch opponent of the United States in the Muslim world.
Tehran, of course, was not guided by a politics of dependence on the
United States but rather was induced by strategic considerations to do
whatever was feasible to avoid becoming a direct target of the United
States and to exploit the unprecedented opportunities opened up to Iran
by the US fixation on the Saddam Hussein regime. Iran adopted the
position that, although it was opposed to US-led military action, it had
deeper grievances against Saddam Hussein and therefore it would not
stand in the way of the United States toppling the Iraqi dictator.
While talking of a united opposition to military actions, for example,
the governments of the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Qatar and
Oman, as well as that of Saudi Arabia, were concurrently making their
territories and facilities available for use by the forces of the United
States and its allies. Of course some of them did so more than others, al-
though none of them to the extent of Kuwait, Qatar and Bahrain. If it
had not been for the assistance of these states, the United States and its
partners in the ‘‘coalition of the willing’’ would have had enormous diffi-
culty in launching and prosecuting the war successfully. This was particu-
larly so in view of the fact that a conflict in Muslim Turkey between its
government, which was willing to fulfil Turkey’s alliance obligations to-
wards the United States and keen to use US leverage to support other
foreign policy interests, and its people, an overwhelming majority of
whom opposed any participation in the war, caused such political con-
sternation and delay as to prevent Turkey from serving as the northern
launch pad for the US attack on Iraq.
Popular sentiment
This élite duplicity has not been representative of the popular reaction,
under both religious and nationalist impulses, to the invasion and occupa-
tion of Iraq. Based on various public opinion surveys,8 a majority of citi-
zens in the Muslim world have been scornful of the invasion and what has
transpired in Iraq since then. Saddam Hussein’s dictatorship, which was
courted as an ally by the United States in the 1980s, enjoyed little pop-
ular support in Iraq and the Muslim world, given its brutal and secular
nature. However, most Muslims have rejected Washington’s approach to
solving the problem as two-faced and irresponsible. They easily recall
that it was the United States that left Saddam Hussein in place in 1991,
knowing full well that he would continue to brutalize the Iraqi popula-
tion. They realize that, when Saddam Hussein used weapons of mass de-
struction against his own people, the US administration knew what was
happening but did nothing major to prevent it. They are suspicious of
the reasons for which the United States and its largely Anglo-Celtic allies
(the United Kingdom and Australia) took it upon themselves to secure
the removal of that regime by military means. The failure of the occupy-
ing forces thus far to substantiate their original justification for war by
proving that Saddam Hussein’s regime possessed dangerous weapons of
mass destruction9 or had aided international terrorism has reinforced
their belief that the war and the occupation have been part of a wider
strategy to remake the Middle East in the image of the United States
and its allies and to marginalize political Islam in world politics.
They are pained by the fact that, in demolishing Saddam Hussein’s re-
gime, the United States and its coalition of the willing also destroyed the
state in Iraq, with no appropriate plan for post-war management of the
country. Although shedding no tears over Saddam Hussein’s departure,
like many in the rest of the world they are appalled that a devastating
war was imposed on the Iraqi people at the cost of thousands of civilian
casualties and infrastructural and historical destruction for what they see
194 AMIN SAIKAL
as economic and geostrategic reasons. The sight of the sadistic humili-

ation and even death of randomly rounded-up Iraqi prisoners by US
forces at Abu Ghraib prison has made an indelible impact and shaped
their perceptions of the United States and its allies for years to come.
The apology by President Bush to the abused prisoners, their families
and the Iraqi people has done little to make a difference in this respect.
The events have resonated so badly with Arabs and Muslims that most of
them no longer believe what the United States says or does. They now
have a very poor image of the United States as a power dedicated to
democratic and human rights causes, and see the US promise of democ-
racy as nothing more than a gimmick.10
This impression has been reinforced by the upsurge of violence and the
US application of disproportionate force against resistance fighters at the
cost of thousands of civilian lives and massive destruction of property in
Fallujah, especially in April 2004. The same happened in one form or an-
other in the following two months in the Shiites’ holiest cities, Najaf and
Karbala, where a number of mosques were either destroyed or damaged
as a result of US shelling. The anti-US resistance has been only too
happy to foster this situation for its own political objectives, both within
Iraq and in the wider Arab and Muslim world. It has constantly sought
opportunities to weaken domestic support for the United States and its
Iraqi allies and, by exhausting popular patience with the US role, to build
momentum behind a reassertion of anti-US Iraqi nationalism.11
Playing into that agenda, Washington has persisted in its efforts to in-
fluence in its favour the outcome of the democratic processes that it has
put in place in Iraq. US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld has all
along been opposed to the emergence of an Islamic government as a
democratic outcome. To many Muslims this is a gratuitous provocation,
almost as offensive as Rumsfeld’s early description of the chaos and inse-
curity that had followed the war as ‘‘a little bit of untidiness’’ and of
Israel’s occupation of Palestinian lands as ‘‘the so-called occupation’’.12
Many Iraqis and their Arab/Muslim counterparts do not believe the
United States has the ability and willingness to generate anything more
than a US puppet administration. They are even highly suspicious of the
Iraqi elected government under Prime Minister Ibrahim al-Jaafari and
President Jalal Talabani as little more than a government dependent on
the United States for its survival and therefore vulnerable to American
dictates.
A view that seems to have gained hold among Muslims around the
world is that the US policy approach to the management of post-war
Iraq has been to maximize the regional dominance of the United States
and of Israel. Many Arabs and Muslims have viewed the war as a gross
exploitation of the post-9/11 global sympathy for the United States and
as part of a strategy to enable a small group of neoconservatives and

‘‘born again’’ Christians in the Bush administration to achieve their
‘‘power reality’’ goal of wider domination.13 The war has reminded them
of the long centuries of European colonization of much of the Muslim
world, and prompted them to regard it as imperialist and anti-Islamic.
In addition, the war has played into the hands of the radical and neo-
fundamentalist forces of political Islam and galvanized support for them
even among those for whom Islam is essentially a faith and a form of
identity rather than an ideology – a development that Osama bin Laden
and his operatives would celebrate. This is a most unfortunate develop-
ment because, if the West wants to build bridges of understanding, it
will need to engage the Muslim mainstream.
Of course, these views are not expressed uniformly in the Muslim
world. They represent the convergence of positions articulated primarily
by four different but at the same time politically and ideologically over-
lapping active clusters across the Muslim domain. To understand this, it
is desirable to look at each of these clusters and the degree to which their
positions have converged in reaction to the Iraq conflict, while bearing in
mind that each cluster’s position can be treated only as indicative of a
broad attitude.14 A considerable degree of overlap and variation exists
between and within each of the clusters, largely because of the wide
range of cultural, political and religious diversity within the Muslim world
and in some cases within each Muslim country.
The first cluster comprises moderate Islamists who uphold Islam as a
dynamic ideology of political and social transformation and a meaningful
ideology of opposition to authoritarian regimes at home, but reject any
form of violence as a means to achieving such objectives, unless their re-
ligion, life and liberty at either the individual or the societal level are
seriously threatened or invaded. On the whole they subscribe to what
has been termed ‘‘Islamic liberalism’’ and adhere strictly to the Islamic
command, as enshrined in the Qur’an, that there is no compulsion in re-
ligion. They operate mainly within loose organizations, informal small
groups or at individual levels. Many Muslim intellectuals and informed
Muslims fall into this category. They rejected the 11 September attacks
as unacceptable, and were pained to learn that Osama bin Laden and
his al-Qaeda were responsible for them. They have dissociated Islam
from extremism and are appalled by those who have presumed to act in
its name to take innocent lives, whether at home or abroad, and thereby
place Muslims everywhere under siege. They reject extremist impositions
on the Muslims over whom Islamist regimes have managed to gain con-
trol, such as the people of Afghanistan during the Taliban rule. More im-
portantly, they regard the 11 September events as providing a dangerous
incentive to the United States and its allies to expand and deepen US
196 AMIN SAIKAL
dominance in the Muslim world and to marginalize defiant political Islam

more than ever before.
They stress the value of peaceful, evolutionary change and want to
work within existing national and international structures to bring about
structural change. They are open to modernity, believe in the inevitabil-
ity of progress, are well disposed to interfaith dialogue and have no aver-
sion to utilizing Western knowledge and achievements to benefit their
societies within a globalized world. Yet they simultaneously criticize the
United States and some of its allies for not making the necessary efforts
to develop a better understanding of Muslim faith, norms, values and
practices and to build solid bridges of understanding for mutually rather
than unilaterally beneficial relationships. Their attitude towards the
United States and its Western allies is one of affection and despair: they
are keen to benefit from Western education, technology and institutions,
and to secure access to Western countries as both migrants and visitors,
but they are critical of Western policy behaviour towards the Muslim
world and of arrogant claims of supremacy over Muslims. In Islamic
terms, the moderate Islamists are on the whole ijtihadi – creatively inter-
pretive of Islam, with a dedication to renewal and reform as the best
means to achieve salvation and prosperity.
Yet many of these moderate Islamists have found US behaviour in re-
lation to Iraq unjustifiable and the conduct of the war on terror to be
pointedly anti-Muslim, with the two interactively being detrimental to
Muslim causes. If in the past they looked to the United States as a source
of support for reforming and democratizing their societies, they are now
disillusioned with the United States. The US policy actions have put them
on the defensive, prompting some of them to become amenable to anti-
US Islamic resistance. They no longer find themselves in a position to
play a determining role in the politics of their countries and the conduct
of relations with the United States and its allies. Their voices are
drowned out in favour of their radical counterparts. Important casualties
of this development have been the moderate, reformist Islamists, who
were until recently led by former President Mohammad Khatami in
Iran, and who until the start of the Iraq war had succeeded in moderating
the excesses of their conservative Islamist opponents and in restraining
them from pursuing their anti-US foreign policy agenda. The Iraq war
and its consequences weakened the position of the reformists, enabling
their hard-line opponents to outmanoeuvre them in the February 2004
parliamentary election and substantially to reduce their political influ-
ence. With the hard-line Islamist Ahmedi Nejad winning the presidential
election in mid-2005, the reformists are now badly marginalized in Iranian
politics.
The second cluster comprises radical Islamists, who are again diverse
in their ideological disposition and modus operandi and share some of the
platform of their moderate counterparts, especially in adhering to the
fundamentals of Islam. However, they differ from the moderates in their
puritanical disposition and orthodox political and social operations. They
want the sharia (Islamic law) instituted as the foundation for the opera-
tion of the state. They view political and social imposition and the use of
violence in certain circumstances as legitimate means to protect and as-
sert their religion and religious-cultural identity and to create the kind
of polity they deem Islamic. They are not necessarily against modernity,
but they want to ensure that modernity and all its manifestations are
adopted in conformity with their religious values and practices. They are
prone to act radically to redress perceived historical and contemporary
injustices inflicted upon Muslims by outsiders, but do not necessarily ex-
tend this to similar injustices committed by Muslim against Muslim. They
challenge outside powers and their own governments for either being
under the influence and control of those powers or failing to respond ef-
fectively to the domestic and foreign policy problems facing the Muslim
world. They hold the West, and the United States in particular, respon-
sible for the political, social and economic plight and cultural decay of
Muslims everywhere and for the damage inflicted upon Muslims by Euro-
pean colonization and post-1945 US domination of most of the Muslim
domain. They have often functioned more successfully in opposition
than in power. They characterize violent Muslim actions against the
United States and its allies as legitimate responses to US behaviour.
Radical Islamists view the United States as their most dangerous
enemy, not only for backing Israel’s occupation of Palestinian lands,
most importantly East Jerusalem, but also for propping up corrupt and
dictatorial regimes in many Muslim countries, which they maintain the
United States does in order to keep the Muslim world backward and to
ensure US hegemonic dominance in world politics. They consider much
of what has become an international crisis since 11 September to be a de-
liberate strategy by hard-core realists of the Cold War era and ‘‘born
again’’ Christians, who they believe now dominate the Bush administra-
tion and who want to replace the Soviet Union with Islam as the enemy.
Their views are often marked by intense hostility to Jews (while insisting
they have no quarrel with Judaism). Many among them regard the United
States and the civilization for which it stands as demeaning and repug-
nant to Islam and the Islamic way of life. They have pointed to the US
military involvement in Afghanistan and the occupation of Iraq as clear
evidence of the United States’ hostility towards not just Muslims but
also Islam per se. From their perspective, the battle for the future of rela-
tions between Islam and the West, more specifically the United States, is
now fought on several fronts, but none as important as those of Iraq and
198 AMIN SAIKAL
Afghanistan. They would regard a defeat in either of these two countries

as a major strategic setback for the world of Islam. In this, they essen-
tially mirror the position of the United States and its allies, which have
claimed, in UK Prime Minister Tony Blair’s words, that Iraq will deter-
mine the future of relations between the West and the Muslim world. In
Islamic terms, they are more jihadi (in the combative and assertive mean-
ing of the term) than ijtihadi (creatively interpretive) in their approach to
societal reconstruction and foreign policy. Al-Qaeda and Jama’a Islamiya
are examples that essentially belong to this category.
The third cluster consists of neo-fundamentalists or those who adhere
to a strict, literal interpretation of Islam. What matters to them most is
the text rather than the context. Although diverse streams exist, on the
whole they tend to be far more puritanical, sectarian, self-righteous,
single-minded, discriminatory, xenophobic and coercive in their approach
than the radical Islamists. They apply violence as a means not only to
bring change but also to govern. In this sense, they are not much different
from a variety of Marxist-Leninist totalitarian groups in the course of
modern history. Their understanding of religion is basic, and they are
generally poorly educated but highly socialized in a particular religious
setting. They are often popularly described as extremists or ultra-
orthodox traditionalists. A good example of them was, and still is, the Ta-
liban group. Given the overlap between neo-fundamentalist and radical
Islamist views, there have often been links between the two, with radical
Islamists using the neo-fundamentalists for human resources, protective
purposes and outreach activities, including armed or terrorist operations.
This was the nature of relations between the Taliban, an example of a
neo-fundamentalist group, and al-Qaeda, a radical Islamist group. The
Muslims in this cluster are prepared to go to any lengths to achieve what
they consider to be ‘‘Islamic martyrdom’’ in defence of Islam and an Is-
lamic way of life. They are driven by religion rather than politics, and
many of them, together with some elements of radical Islamists, form
the core of what have become known as Jihadis. They have welcomed
the opening of Iraq as another theatre of conflict in which they can en-
gage the United States and its allies on Muslim soil and on their terms.
The fourth cluster consists of radical secular Arab/Muslim nationalists,
whose goal is a reformation of their societies, free from domination by
foreign, especially US, imperialism in one form or another. Although
many radical nationalists are guided by a mixture of secular and religious
ideologies, most of them share a strong sense of commitment to their in-
dividual national identity and independence, as well as the concepts of
pan-Arab and pan-Muslim unity. They range from radical Arab national-
ists of the Gemal Abdul Nasser and Saddam Hussein eras to the active
Iranian, Pakistani, Malaysian and Indonesian patriots of today. Similar
to radical Islamists, they have viewed the United States as hegemonic.

They share the other clusters’ views of the invasion and occupation of
Iraq and are equally determined to counter the occupation and US he-
gemonic operations in the wider Muslim world whenever the opportunity
presents itself.
These four clusters have constituted a cross-section, collectively syn-
thesizing the dominant attitude towards the Iraq conflict within the
Muslim world. This attitude appears to resonate well with grassroots
networks at village and madrasa levels, whose knowledge of Islam is
generally basic. They essentially follow Islam as a faith, and can be apo-
litical or political, depending on whether or not they feel their faith and
way of life threatened by hostile forces. Many of them are potential
foot-soldiers of Islam, vulnerable to manipulation by radical Islamists,
neo-fundamentalists and radical nationalists. They are often incapable of
forming their own opinions about major political issues and events of the
day, and remain very much at the mercy of what they learn from or are
offered by the politically more informed and judgemental Islamists and
nationalists. They constitute the bulk of ordinary Muslims, who if left
alone could well remain preoccupied with their daily lives, especially in
poor countries. However, in certain circumstances they can be galvanized
and mobilized by Islamists and nationalists, whether they live in poor
suburbs or in the countryside of Egypt or Pakistan. The plight of Muslims
at the hands of ‘‘foreigners’’, whether in Iraq or Palestine, can rouse
them to action.
The most dangerous outcome of the Iraq conflict is that it has not only
galvanized the politically and religiously active segments across the Mus-
lim world, but also provided a majority of Muslims with a common factor
of convergence in their views. If, in the past, it was only the radical Islam-
ists and nationalists who harboured resentment of the United States and
its allies, since the advent of the Iraq conflict this resentment has found
wider support and acceptability among all social strata in the Muslim
world. Unless this trend is reversed by the United States and its allies in
such a way as to regain credibility and trust among Muslims, the future
of relations between the two sides looks bleak for years to come.15 Of
course, the United States could start the process by developing a political
strategy in which it could reconcile its interests with those of the rest of
the world. Rather than making facile comments such as ‘‘we are hated
for who we are and what we stand for’’, Washington and its allies have
to become more sensitive in the conduct of their relations with the Mus-
lim world – acknowledging and rectifying past fundamental mistakes, in-
cluding the invasion of Iraq and biases towards Israel over the Palesti-
nian problem. Having Muslim governments on side is not the same as
winning the minds and hearts of Muslims.
200 AMIN SAIKAL
Notes
1. For a detailed discussion, see Fareed Zakaria, The Future of Freedom: Illiberal Democ-
racy at Home and Abroad (New York: W. W. Norton, 2003), Chapter 4.
2. For a detailed critical discussion, see Robert Bowker, Beyond Peace: The Search for Se-
curity in the Middle East (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1996), pp. 24–28.
3. See Amin Saikal, Islam and the West: Conflict or Cooperation? (London: Palgrave Mac-
millan, 2003), Chapter 5.
4. The League of Arab States – Press Release, 21 March 2003.
5. League of Arab States Resolution – Press Release, 25 March 2003.
6. ‘‘Islamic Nations Totally Reject Iraq War’’, Al-Jazeera, News, March 2003.
7. For a sample of analyses on the subject, see ‘‘Arab League Meet Will Not Help Bagh-
dad, Says Analyst’’, Gulf News, 22 February 2003; Mohammed Sid-Ahmed, ‘‘The Fu-
ture of the Arab League’’, Al-Ahram (Weekly), 15–21 March 2003; Waseem Shehzad,
‘‘OIC Fiasco Exposes Arab Rulers’ Divisions and Impotence’’, Muslimedia Interna-
tional, 16–31 March 2003; Mushahid Hussein, ‘‘OIC Proves to Be a Damp Squib’’,
Gulf News, 22 October 2003.
8. See Jim Lobe, ‘‘Gap Grows between U.S., World Public Opinion’’, Inter-Press Service,
16 March 2004; Shiibley Telhami, ‘‘Arab Public Opinion: A Survey in Six Countries’’,
San Jose Mercury, 16 March 2003; Susan Page, ‘‘Poll: Muslim Countries, Europe Ques-
tion U.S. Motives’’, USA Today, 24 June 2004; ‘‘Poll: Majority of Muslims Think U.S.
‘Ruthless’, ‘Arrogant’ ’’, IslamOnline, hhttp://www.islamonline.net/english/News/2002–
02/27/artucke05.shtmli, 24 June 2004.
9. See Joseph Cirincione, Jessica T. Mathews and George Perkovich, WMD in Iraq:
Evidence and Implications (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International
Peace, 2004).
10. For details, see BBC News World Edition, 6 May 2004.
11. Scott Ritter, ‘‘Saddam’s People Are Winning the War’’, International Herald Tribune,
22 July 2004. On the issue of Iraqis’ distrust of the United States and its allies, see Tho-
mas E. Ricks, ‘‘80% in Iraq Distrust Occupation Authority’’, Washington Post, 13 May
2004.
12. United Press International, 28 August 2002.
13. This is also a central argument in Richard A. Clarke, Against All Enemies: Inside Amer-
ica’s War on Terror (New York: Free Press, 2004).
14. For a detailed discussion of these clusters, see Saikal, Islam and the West, pp. 19–23.
15. For a US perspective from inside the US administration, see Clarke, Against All Ene-
mies, Chapters 10–11.
Part IV
External actor perspectives
12
The United States and the
United Nations in light of
wars on terrorism and Iraq
Jane Boulden and Thomas G. Weiss
The United Nations (UN) is predicated on the support of key member

states, but divisions over actions by the United States in Iraq have
thrown a monkey wrench into the multilateral machinery. Our purpose
is to examine how the United Nations has dealt with terrorism, how the
advent of US power and foreign policy under the George W. Bush ad-
ministration has affected the United Nations, and how these two issues,
together, have affected the world organization and its future. Our as-
sumption is that the United Nations’ responses, as well as the impact of
terrorism itself, have significant unexplored implications for international
society. Like virtually every issue on today’s UN agenda, the analysis re-
quires an understanding of Washington’s love/hate relationship with the
world organization. In addition, we probe the implications for the future
of the United Nations at a time when the prelude to and aftermath of the
war on Iraq have raised questions about its relevance.
The Iraq crisis – both the conduct of the war outside of the Security
Council and the blowback afterwards – has had a clear negative impact
in the short run on the existing UN-centred world order. The re-election
of George W. Bush in November 2004 augured poorly, according to con-
ventional wisdom, for multilateralism. Paradoxically, the history of the
world organization’s efforts to address terrorism, especially after the at-
tacks of 11 September 2001, hold the potential to re-knit the fabric of re-
lations between the United Nations and the United States. That conclu-
sion is preceded by an overview of UN action on terrorism;1 the impact
203
204 JANE BOULDEN AND THOMAS G. WEISS
of 9/11; the roles of the Secretary-General, the Counter-Terrorism Com-

mittee (CTC) and the 2005 UN World Summit; the role of other actors
and factors; and the implications of Iraq.
Overview of UN action on terrorism

The combined effects of the politics of the Cold War and of the Middle
East meant that the Security Council was unable to address the issue of
terrorism when it surged in the early 1970s.2 Beginning in 1972 after a re-
quest from the Secretary-General, the General Assembly – primarily
through the Sixth Committee – worked to negotiate a series of interna-
tional conventions under the heading ‘‘measures to prevent terrorism’’.
In taking up the issue, however, the Assembly found itself embroiled in
how to define the term itself. At the heart of the brouhaha was the argu-
ment that, in struggles for liberation from a colonial or repressive regime,
terrorism was acceptable, or at least should not be criminalized.
The General Assembly set aside the effort to define the term, and by
extension a judgement about possible motivations for terrorism, and fo-
cused instead on imposing limits on various methods. The legal conven-
tions established by the Assembly currently number 13. The prohibitions
include hijacking, interfering with the safe operation of an aircraft, seiz-
ing offshore platforms and ships on the high seas, hostage taking, deliber-
ately damaging public buildings and spaces, and the acquisition of radio-
active material.3
The end of the Cold War created an opening for change. In 1991 the
rubric under which the General Assembly pursued terrorism changed
from ‘‘measures to prevent’’ to ‘‘measures to eliminate’’ terrorism – a re-
flection of a growing sense that the tactic itself was unacceptable, whatever
the motivations. Two years later, the Third Committee began work on hu-
man rights and terrorism, focusing on the need to protect the rights of both
the perpetrators and the victims. In 1997 the General Assembly completed
the Convention for the Suppression of Terrorist Bombings; in 1999 the
Convention for the Suppression of the Financing of Terrorism; and in
April 2005 the Convention for the Suppression of Nuclear Terrorism.
Reflecting its wide conception of terrorism and its implications, in
1996 the General Assembly established an ad hoc Committee on Terror-
ism whose task is to work to plug the gaps between existing conventions
through the development of a comprehensive convention on inter-
national terrorism. The ad hoc committee’s work on the convention and
a high-level conference has long been impeded by the absence of a
definition.
The Security Council’s first concrete response to terrorism came in
THE USA AND THE UN AND WARS ON TERRORISM AND IRAQ 205
1992 when it sought to compel Libyan compliance with the criminal in-
vestigation relating to the bombings of the Pan Am and UTA flights,
in 1988 and 1989 respectively, and end Libyan support of terrorism
more generally.4 In the absence of Tripoli’s cooperation, the Security
Council moved, in March 1992, to impose economic sanctions on Libya,
strengthening them later by Resolutions 731, 748 and 883. The Council
responded similarly for the Sudan in 1996, calling on the government to
extradite the suspects in an assassination attempt on Egyptian President
Hosni Mubarak, and then imposing sanctions when Khartoum failed to
do so in Resolutions 1044, 1054 and 1070. In response to the bombings
of US embassies in East Africa, Council members imposed sanctions
against the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, increasing their strength and
scope over time through Resolutions 1267 and 1333. In this last instance,
in order to oversee the sanctions process and ensure that it was being
adequately implemented, in July 2001 Security Council Resolution 1363
created a committee to monitor the sanctions process.
The General Assembly thus dealt with terrorism overall by establish-
ing international rules and norms about what kind of behaviour was and
was not acceptable. By contrast, the Security Council responded to spe-
cific events with concrete measures on a case-by-case basis. The focus of
both was on the state as a source of and a solution to the problem.
Signs of a shift in the division of labour appeared in 1999, when the Se-
curity Council passed Resolution 1269 dealing with terrorism as a general
issue and condemned ‘‘all acts, methods and practices of terrorism as
criminal and unjustifiable, regardless of their motivation’’ and called on
states to take a series of measures to prevent and suppress terrorist acts
and deny safe haven to those planning them. The resolution was notable
because motivation was not an attenuating factor, and the Security Coun-
cil was responding to terrorism as a global phenomenon.
9/11
Neither terrorism, nor its manifestation in the form of al-Qaeda, was un-
familiar territory when the tragic attacks took place against US territory
on 11 September 2001. The Security Council met the following day and
with remarkable unanimity and speed passed Resolution 1368, recogniz-
ing the ‘‘inherent right to self-defence’’ as a legitimate response. Shortly
thereafter, it moved further to establish a wide-ranging set of require-
ments to be undertaken by states in order to suppress and hinder terror-
ist activity. Resolution 1373 requires states to undertake a variety of
national measures to suppress financing and to ensure non-support for
terrorist activity, as well as such cooperative international measures
as exchanges of information and early warning. In order to monitor the

implementation of these measures, the resolution also established the
Counter-Terrorism Committee.
This latter resolution marks a turning point in the Council’s approach
to terrorism. Building on the earlier Resolution 1269, the provisions of
1373 bring the Security Council firmly into the General Assembly’s tradi-
tional realm of dealing with terrorism as a general phenomenon, using
the mechanism of the state to prohibit, suppress and hinder terrorist
activity. In addition, this resolution makes such actions legally binding
on all states even while many had failed to sign or ratify the General As-
sembly’s recommended conventions. In case there was any doubt that
terrorism was firmly on the agenda, in November 2001 Security Council
Resolution 1377 declared that terrorism constitutes ‘‘one of the most se-
rious threats to international peace and security’’.
Read together with the earlier self-defence resolution, the Council’s
new approach reflected a remarkable dichotomy. Although Resolution
1368 recognized the inherent right to self-defence, it made no attempt to
articulate what that meant. Article 51 of the UN Charter provides for the
right to individual and collective self-defence, but only until the Security
Council has taken the measures necessary to maintain international
peace and security. Neither the resolution itself nor subsequent Council
statements or activity, however, give any indication that such action was
forthcoming. The recognition of self-defence, therefore, represents a vir-
tual carte blanche for the use of force by the United States.
Moreover, instead of the 13 international treaties that bind only those
states that accede to them, Resolution 1373 creates uniform obligations
for all member states and establishes a committee to ensure their imple-
mentation. At the same time, therefore, that the Security Council is ab-
senting itself from an oversight role with respect to the use of force in
fighting terrorism, it is inserting itself in a significant way into state-based
activity by creating international law.
The evolution continues: The Secretary-General, the CTC

and the 2005 World Summit
The attacks of 11 September prompted Secretary-General Kofi Annan

to enter the fray. Shortly after airplanes destroyed the Twin Towers and
part of the Pentagon, he established a working group to examine the im-
plications for the United Nations and recommend how the world organi-
zation might best address terrorism. The Policy Working Group on the
United Nations and Terrorism advocated an overarching approach with
three components: to dissuade disaffected groups from embracing terror-
ism; to deny groups or individuals the means to carry out such acts; and
to work to sustain international cooperation.5
With the United Nations sidelined in the war against Iraq, everyone
was unhappy – the United Nations could not impede US hegemony, and
it could not approve the requisite action against Saddam Hussein. In the
midst of the crisis about intervention in Iraq, the Secretary-General indi-
cated that the United Nations was at a ‘‘fork in the road . . . no less deci-
sive than 1945 itself, when the United Nations was founded’’.6 Annan
asked 16 former senior government officials – the High-level Panel on
Threats, Challenges and Change (HLP) – to describe what ailed the
United Nations and propose a way forward. Among its shopping list of
101 recommendations on virtually every topic on the United Nations’
agenda, the blue-ribbon panel’s December 2004 report, A More Secure
World, outlined a useful strategy based on dissuasion, measures to
counter extremism and intolerance, the development of better counter-
terrorism instruments in the context of human rights requirements,
strengthened state capabilities, and control of dangerous materials.7
While reaffirming the approach in place at the United Nations, the
HLP emphasized the extent to which the absence of an agreed definition
of terrorism hampered progress. It argued that a definition should be
agreed in the General Assembly, ‘‘given its unique legitimacy in norma-
tive terms’’, and suggested that a definition of terrorism should recognize
that the use of force against civilians constitutes a war crime or crime
against humanity. The panel proposed ‘‘a description of terrorism as
‘any action, in addition to actions already specified by existing conven-
tions . . . that is intended to cause death or serious bodily harm to civilians
or non-combatants, when the purpose of such an act, by its nature or con-
text, is to intimidate a population or to compel a Government or an inter-
national organization to do or to abstain from doing any act’ ’’.8
There always have been two main sticking points relating to defining
terrorism. The first was captured by the expression ‘‘your terrorist is my
freedom fighter’’ – that is, many developing countries justify armed vio-
lence by those fighting for national liberation. The second was whether
‘‘state terrorism’’ should be included in any definition agreed by the vast
majority of member states – for many, the use of force by Israeli and,
more recently, US forces is mentioned in the same breath as suicide-
bombers.
The HLP confronted these traditional stumbling blocks: ‘‘Attacks that
specifically target innocent civilians and non-combatants must be con-
demned clearly and unequivocally by all.’’9 The Secretary-General sup-
ported this in his own document for the Summit by stating that ‘‘the pro-
posal has clear moral force’’.10
The World Summit’s final text failed to define terrorism, but for the
first time in UN history the assembled heads of state and government is-
sued an unqualified condemnation.11 They agreed to ‘‘strongly condemn
terrorism in all forms and manifestations, committed by whomever, wher-
ever and for whatever purposes’’.12 The final text eliminated earlier and
clearer language that targeting civilians could not be justified, in ex-
change for dropping an exemption for movements resisting occupa-
tion. On balance, the Summit adds momentum to the Secretary-General’s
evolving counter-terrorism strategy. Whether or not it is signed, sealed
and delivered anytime soon or whether the General Assembly ‘‘con-
cludes a comprehensive convention on international terrorism’’ within a
year as hoped, the Summit’s clear condemnation of violence against civil-
ians is a step forward. It has ethical content, contains the basis for a con-
vention and places the United Nations near the centre of the fight against
terrorism.
In brief, the United Nations’ response to terrorism has evolved consid-
erably from the early 1970s. During three decades, the General Assembly
has generated 13 legal conventions focusing on prohibiting and inhibiting
various terrorist forms of attack and support. By contrast, the Security
Council did not begin to deal with the question until the early 1990s, and
then it took a case-by-case approach to de-legitimize state support for
terrorism and to compel states sponsoring terrorism to comply with na-
tional and international requirements. Terrorist activity, especially the at-
tacks on the World Trade Center in 1993 and on US embassies later in
the 1990s, catapulted the Security Council, under Washington’s impetus,
into the terrorism realm at a time when the end of the Cold War made
agreement more plausible than it had been earlier. It also eventually
prompted the Security Council to address terrorism in a more compre-
hensive manner, a foundation used to construct its post-9/11 strategy.
The Security Council has overtaken, although not eliminated, the Gen-
eral Assembly’s role, but the latter remains crucial as the follow-up to the
World Summit suggests. If the views of the world organization’s entire
membership are considered important to the development of interna-
tional order, the codification of emerging norms should take place in a
forum with a comprehensive view. A counterbalance is necessary to off-
set concerns about Western-centric emphases in the Security Council,
which predictably were not changed by the Summit.13 But the overall im-
pact on this score is mixed, and acceptance and adherence to the conven-
tions remain a struggle.14
The Security Council’s record is also chequered. Arguably, the sanc-
tions strategy had some impact against Libya and the Sudan – both even-
tually found a way to hand over suspects and meet the demands to com-
ply with legal processes. But there was little such progress with the
Taliban and al-Qaeda prior to 9/11, and Security Council actions up until
that point clearly had no impact on al-Qaeda’s ability to launch its lethal
attacks of September 2001.
A more significant development was the establishment of the CTC.
Formed to monitor the implementation of Resolution 1373, it has be-
come an integral part of the United Nations’ terrorism strategy. All 15
Security Council members take part, and three sub-committees under-
take to analyse reports provided by member states. This process is sup-
plemented by routine advice and assistance from outside experts, an
important first in Security Council work. The CTC also consults with re-
gional and other international organizations in order to facilitate greater
cooperation. Early in its mandate, the CTC determined that the tasks re-
quired of member states were taxing. Through Resolution 1377 in No-
vember 2001, it began an assistance role, providing support in the form
of advice, experts and technical cooperation to those states in need.
The CTC does not deal in policy, and its mandate is solely to monitor
and facilitate the provisions of Resolution 1373. Its first chairman, the
United Kingdom’s Permanent Representative Sir Jeremy Greenstock,
stated that the CTC’s purpose is to ‘‘monitor, to be analytical, and to re-
port facts to the Security Council for consideration’’.15 In addition to es-
tablishing and overseeing support for member states in need of assistance
– a major undertaking, especially for a committee that is an ad hoc cre-
ation and continues to work on the basis of 90-day work plans – during
2004 the Security Council worked to ‘‘revitalize’’ the CTC’s work by
strengthening its capabilities. In March 2004, Security Council Resolution
1535 approved a new structure, establishing a Counter-Terrorism Execu-
tive Directorate, whose executive director is appointed by the Secretary-
General and is based in the secretariat.
Other actors, other factors

In addition to Resolutions 1368 and 1373, the Security Council continued
to isolate and restrict al-Qaeda by using financial sanctions and controls
as well as limitations on travel. In January 2004, the Council passed Res-
olution 1526, requiring states to impose further financial and travel re-
strictions on al-Qaeda members and others connected with them, and
asking the Secretary-General to appoint an analytical support and sanc-
tions monitoring team for an 18-month period. More than a year later, in
July 2005, the Council moved again in Resolution 1617 to strengthen the
process by clarifying the listing process for those subject to restrictions.
These provisions not only strengthen the existing restrictions but do so
by enhancing the United Nations’ ability to ensure their implementation.
The savage September 2004 attack on a school in Beslan, in the Rus-
sian Republic of North Ossetia, prompted a Security Council reaction,

giving more impetus to the CTC’s task expansion. Russia proposed that
the Council develop a list of terrorist individuals and groups beyond
al-Qaeda and the Taliban, who could be made subject to sanctions
and other restrictions. Rather than create a list, the Security Council
agreed, in Resolution 1566, to establish an internal working group to ex-
amine ‘‘practical measures to be imposed upon individuals, groups or en-
tities’’ associated with terrorist activities. Less comprehensive than Rus-
sia would have liked, it nonetheless paves the way for expanding the
terrorist groups and individuals subject to council scrutiny.
The working group is in addition to another Security Council com-
mittee established in April 2004 by Resolution 1540. Prompted by a
growing concern that terrorists might acquire and use weapons of mass
destruction (WMD), this resolution requires member states to establish
appropriate national legislation to ensure domestic control over nuclear,
chemical and biological weapons – including border, export and tran-
shipment controls as well as physical protection measures and account-
ability procedures for existing materials. The resolution also establishes,
for a two-year period, a committee to oversee and assist member states in
the implementation of these provisions, using outside expertise where de-
sirable along with consultation and cooperation with the CTC and the al-
Qaeda sanctions committee.
The United Nations’ position on terrorism can be characterized by
three linked concepts: evolution, institutionalization and proliferation.
The approach has evolved from General Assembly-centred efforts to
establish legal limits on terrorist methodologies to one in which terrorism
is treated as a global security concern requiring Security Council-led re-
sponses. Instead of recommendations from the Assembly, there are obli-
gations from the Council. In the process, both have established a number
of working groups and committees to consider various nuts-and-bolts as-
pects of the problem. Although these mechanisms are ad hoc, the consol-
idation of the CTC and the nature of the tasks together mark a process of
institutionalization in the context of a proliferation of actors, both state
and non-state. Indeed, even as the 2005 World Summit was unable to
agree on a definition of terrorism, the Security Council met on the Sum-
mit’s first day at the level of heads of state and passed Resolution 1624,
calling on states to work to make incitement to commit terrorism illegal
and handing the CTC yet another task that required reporting progress
within a year.
September 11 brought about a determined change as well as an in-
tensity in the Security Council, whose resolutions, declarations and
presidential statements show a remarkably consistent and collective
leadership. As impressive as this review sounds, and as important as
these developments are, the Security Council’s debates and actions are
missing two elements: limits or qualifications for responding to terrorism;
and the legitimacy of the Council, and by extension of the United Na-
tions, to act on these matters.
Much of the United Nations’ response is about process – committees,
reports, lists, cooperation and consultation. None of it involves consider-
ation of the questions of how or whether to address root causes16 or of
the legitimacy and adequacy of force as a response to terrorist events.
An avoidance of judgement of state responses to terrorism is not new –
just as the Security Council was unable to deal with terrorism prior to
the end of the Cold War, it was also unable and unwilling to address the
nature of state responses to attacks.17 One shift after 9/11 is that UN re-
sponses consist of a more vocal concern that international commitments
to human rights be respected. Almost every Security Council resolution
now contains within it, as did the final declaration by the 2005 World
Summit, this reminder. By contrast, the question of how to deal with the
use of force in counter-terrorist operations remains unaddressed.
The fact that the United States has a carte blanche in Afghanistan,
whereas others are required to play by the rules, has had a negative im-
pact on the credibility of the Security Council. Washington has to do more
than give lip-service to the needs of others. Unless the United States
is prepared to bend on occasion and contribute to solutions for priority
problems of other regions and countries, the latter are unlikely to sign
on when their helping hands are necessary for US priorities. This realiza-
tion has yet to dawn fully on the Bush administration, whose standard
operating procedure is that the United States leads and other countries
either follow or get out of the way. Will this continue? We come back to
this question after examining developments in Iraq with especial rele-
vance in the United Nations’ consideration of what Brian Urquhart spec-
ulates could be ‘‘the mother of all poisoned chalices’’.18
The implications of Iraq
The impact of Iraq is intimately related to the American role on the

world stage and the United Nations’ record, and these variables circum-
scribe the world organization’s future prospects.19 Terrorism and Iraq,
issues that have constituted the two most significant threats to the United
Nations in recent years, exist in apparent isolation from each other. This
is in spite of the efforts – exposed as false by government investigations
in both the United States and the United Kingdom20 – of the Bush ad-
ministration to point to a link not just between Iraq and terrorism and
the existence of WMD, but between Iraq and 9/11. Most of the rationale
for action in Iraq, at least as it occurred at the United Nations, focused

on WMD and the need to prove the world organization’s mettle by
enforcing Iraq’s compliance with Security Council resolutions. President
Bush, for instance, warned listeners at the 2002 General Assembly: ‘‘We
created the United Nations Security Council so that, unlike the League of
Nations, our deliberations would be more than talk. Our resolution would
be more than wishes.’’21
US power poses a significant challenge to the type of multilateralism
represented by the United Nations at the beginning of the twenty-first
century. Bipolarity gave way to what was supposed to be US primacy,
but the sheer size and scope of US power makes ‘‘primacy’’ a vast under-
statement. Scholars speculate about the nuances of economic and cultural
leverage resulting from US soft power,22 but the hard currency of inter-
national politics undoubtedly remains military might – which was dramat-
ically illustrated by Washington in Kosovo, Afghanistan and Iraq. Before
the wars on terrorism and Iraq, Washington was already spending more
on its military than the next 15–25 countries (depending on who was
counting); with additional appropriation for Afghanistan and Iraq, the
United States now spends more than the rest of the world’s militaries
combined.23 Yet Iraq suggests the limits of US military power. The costs
of trying to pursue a policy of primacy instead of selective engagement
are having an impact, even in Washington.24
Ironically, our discussion thus far gives no indication of the Iraqi
debate having had a significant impact on the United Nations’ terrorism
efforts. In fact, the continued ability of the Security Council to agree on
terrorist-related measures, and to do so with unanimity, is especially no-
table after the Iraq trauma. There thus appears to be a shared sense of a
global threat and an urgency that could be built upon.
And yet another side of the equation is critical. The end of the Cold
War and the willingness to engage the United Nations on security issues
made Council action on terrorism possible. There is no question that the
driving force was the United States, and this reality provides a possible
link between Iraq and terrorism because events there may influence the
world organization’s counter-terrorism efforts. In August 2005, Security
Council Resolution 1618 condemned a series of attacks in Iraq as ‘‘ter-
rorist acts’’, especially those resulting in the deaths of employees of the
Independent Electoral Commission and 32 children. Such acts fall well
within the World Summit’s conception of terrorism and the wording of
previous Council resolutions. In this sense, the situation in Iraq links ter-
rorism and Iraq in an unanticipated but unequivocal way. If the situation
continues to worsen, the United Nations, already increasingly involved in
Iraq through the electoral process, may find itself drawn more deeply
into the terrorist side of the equation.
Conclusion
Conventional wisdom now holds that terrorism and the attacks of

September 2001, mixed with US power, changed international relations
irreversibly. The establishment of the High-level Panel was to help deter-
mine a future course of action for the world body, but the none-too-
hidden agenda was how to engage the United States.
The existence and viability of Iraq’s transitional government after the
January 2005 elections and the October 2005 consultations on a new con-
stitution depend largely on the United Nations, whatever the rhetoric
from Washington. No US administration will permit the Security Council,
or any other part of the UN system, to stand in the way of its pursuit of
its perceived vital interests. At the same time, the Council and the UN
system as a whole often serve US national interests and give the United
States cause to proceed cautiously and with international acquiescence, if
not jubilant support. Depending on the issue, the stakes at hand, the po-
sitions of other potential allies and the plausibility of collective action,
the United States is unlike any other state in that it has the power to act
either unilaterally or multilaterally.25 As the Bush administration discov-
ered, however, ‘‘even imperfectly legitimated power is likely to be much
more effective than crude coercion’’.26
In light of the sobering experience in occupied Iraq, perhaps the
United Nations will become more appealing to Washington.27 There are
numerous other examples of shared interests, which most certainly in-
clude fighting terrorism along with confronting the global spectre of in-
fectious diseases (HIV/AIDS, Ebola, and SARS), pursuing environmen-
tal sustainability, trade and development, monitoring human rights and
criminal tribunals, humanitarian intervention, as well as pursuing weap-
ons inspections and a host of other tasks in post-conflict reconstruction
in Iraq and elsewhere. Facing a hurricane-induced crisis at home and
plummeting popularity, President Bush’s annual address in New York –
this time to the presidents, prime ministers and monarchs at the Septem-
ber 2005 World Summit – mentioned these very issues and reflected a
broader vision of security threats and the role of the United Nations than
in previous years.28
The unfortunate reality of power means that, if the United Nations and
multilateral cooperation are to flourish, the United States as the globe’s
remaining superpower must be on board. The record of the Bush admin-
istration gives pause, amounting to what K. J. Holsti has summarized as
‘‘major assaults on [international] community projects’’.29 The list is long,
including in addition to the war in Iraq: abrogating the Anti-Ballistic
Missile Treaty; withdrawing from the draft protocol for verification of the
Biological Weapons Convention and from the Kyoto accords on global
warming; subverting the International Criminal Court; rejecting the

Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty; failing to sign the Convention
on the Rights of the Child; and resorting to predatory trade practices.
And the achievement of a final document at the World Summit can in
some ways be characterized as having come about in spite of rather than
because of the United States and the presence of the new conservative
firebrand, Ambassador John Bolton.
The crying need to re-engage the United States at the United Nations
is certainly not the only prerequisite if the world organization is to move
from under the dark cloud of the oil-for-food scandal and overcome the
accumulated effects of its own post–Cold War record. Although this is
often overlooked as a priority, it is necessary to re-engage the rest of the
membership as well. The United Nations’ fundamental inequality and
concerns about Western-centric abuse or at least double standards in
pursuing its goals, and the resulting perception of diminished credibility
and legitimacy have all served to affirm many member states’ worst suspi-
cions about the United Nations. The events surrounding Iraq have deep-
ened that foreboding.
The terrorism-related structures and activities at the United Nations
cry out for coordination. The new tendency of the Security Council to
create resolution-specific committees, although intended to contribute to
greater focus and efficiency, may represent a dispersal of effort. In con-
junction with General Assembly activities, such growth raises questions
about the need for centralized direction. To draw the effort together in
a way that moves beyond process and into the realm of normative and
practical achievement requires leadership – here there is a role for the
next Secretary-General and Washington.
Terrorism and UN responses to it reveal and accentuate the impli-
cations of the post–Cold War trend toward a system in which the pre-
ponderant power of the United States – militarily, economically and cul-
turally – is ever more striking. If the United Nations makes a difference
to issues high on the list of US priorities, the world organization becomes
a more essential institution. This does not mean becoming a rubber
stamp or a cipher, but it does mean making a difference on priorities for
Washington.
It is difficult to underestimate the impact of Iraq on the United Na-
tions. Its implications run like a fault-line through the world organiza-
tion’s normative structure. And recent events, rather than working to
seal the fault-line, have opened it into a threatening chasm. The conse-
quences of Iraq may yet widen it beyond repair, but there are some
grounds to argue that the United Nations’ response to terrorism and the
way that it may develop hold the potential for bridging the divide.
It is often the shadow of a darker threat that prompts a new vigour and
willingness to work together. The precise influence of Iraq on the United

Nations and on the broader rules of international order and society that
it seeks to uphold has yet to be fully measured. But the impact of terror-
ism left unaddressed is potentially far greater. The need to deal with this
scourge is compelling, both in terms of domestic political support in the
West and in terms of real security, presenting both the United States
and other member states with not just an opportunity but a necessity to
work together. The existing UN efforts on terrorism represent a starting
point, and member state involvement may generate new momentum and
legitimacy for the world organization.
This is an immodest goal now that the champagne flutes have been
stored after the United Nations’ sixtieth anniversary celebrations.
Notes
1. The argument draws upon Jane Boulden and Thomas G. Weiss, eds, Terrorism and the
UN: Before and After September 11 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2004).
2. An exception was Security Council Resolution 286, adopted by consensus in 1970, call-
ing on states to take measures to prevent hijackings.
3. For details of the General Assembly’s role, see M. J. Peterson, ‘‘Using the General As-
sembly’’, in Boulden and Weiss, eds, Terrorism and the UN, pp. 173–197. For a listing of
the terrorist conventions, see hhttp://untreaty.un.org/English/Terrorism.aspi; and for
the General Assembly resolutions, see hhttp://www.un.org/terrorism/res.htmi.
4. For details of the Security Council’s role, see Chantal de Jonge Oudraat, ‘‘The Role of
the Security Council’’, in Boulden and Weiss, eds, Terrorism and the UN, pp. 151–172.
5. Report of the Policy Working Group on the United Nations and Terrorism, UN Doc.
A/57/273–S/2002/875, 6 August 2002.
6. The Secretary-General’s Address to the 58th Session of the UN General Assembly,
New York, 23 September 2003, UN Doc. A/58/PV.7, p. 3.
7. A More Secure World: Our Shared Responsibility. Report of the Secretary-General’s
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change (New York: United Nations,
2004), paras 145–164.
8. Ibid., paras 163–164.
9. Ibid., para. 161.
10. Kofi Annan, In Larger Freedom: Towards Development, Security and Human Rights for
All, UN Doc. A/59/2005, 21 March 2005, para. 91.
11. For an evaluation of this and other issues from the World Summit, see Thomas G. Weiss
and Barbara Crossette, ‘‘The United Nations, post-Kofi Annan’’, in Great Decisions
2006 (New York: Foreign Policy Association, forthcoming).
12. 2005 World Summit Outcome, UN Doc. A/60/L.1, 15 September 2005, para. 81.
13. See Thomas G. Weiss and Karen Young, ‘‘Compromise and Credibility: Security Coun-
cil Reform?’’, Security Dialogue, Vol. 36, No. 2 (June 2005), pp. 131–154; and Thomas
G. Weiss, Overcoming the Security Council Impasse: Envisioning Reform, Occasional
Paper 14 (Berlin: Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, 2005).
14. Few states have ratified the three earliest conventions: 25 for the 1973 Convention on
the Prevention and Punishment of Crimes against Internationally Protected Persons, in-
cluding Diplomatic Agents; 39 for the 1979 International Convention against the Taking
of Hostages; and 58 for the 1997 Convention for the Suppression of Terrorist Bombings.
The 1999 Convention for the Suppression of the Financing of Terrorism has 117 ratifi-
cations.
15. See Press Briefings by the Chairman of the CTC, 19 October 2001, hhttp://www.un.org/
Docs/sc/committees/1373/briefings.htmli.
16. See Rama Mani, ‘‘The Root Causes of Terrorism and Prevention’’, in Boulden and
Weiss, eds, Terrorism and the UN, pp. 219–241.
17. Edward C. Luck, ‘‘Tackling Terrorism’’, in David M. Malone, ed., The UN Security
Council: From the Cold War to the 21 st Century (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2004),
pp. 85–100.
18. Brian Urquhart, ‘‘The United Nations Rediscovered?’’, World Policy Journal, Vol. 21,
No. 2 (2004), pp. 1–2.
19. For additional material with specific reference to US domestic and foreign policy, see
Thomas G. Weiss, Margaret E. Crahan and John Goering, eds, Wars on Terrorism and
Iraq: Human Rights, Unilateralism, and U.S. Foreign Policy (London: Routledge, 2004).
20. Comprehensive Report of the Special Advisor to the DCI on Iraq’s WMD, 30 September
2004 (report by Charles Duelfer), hhttp://www.cia.gov/cia/reports/iraq_wmd_2004/i; and
Review of Intelligence on Weapons of Mass Destruction (the ‘‘Butler’’ report, chaired by
Rt. Hon. Lord Butler of Brockwell), 14 July 2004, hhttp://www.official-documents.co.uk/
document/deps/hc/hc898/898.pdfi.
21. ‘‘Address by Mr. George W. Bush, President of the United States of America’’, UN
General Assembly, 57th Session, 12 September 2002, UN Doc. A/57/PV.2, p. 6.
22. See Joseph E. Nye, Jr, The Paradox of American Power: Why the World’s Only Super-
power Can’t Go It Alone (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002).
23. ‘‘Last of the Big Time Spenders: U.S. Military Budget Still the World’s Largest, and
Growing’’, Center for Defense Information, Table on ‘‘Fiscal Year 2004 Budget’’, based
on data provided by the US Department of Defense and International Institute for
Strategic Studies, Washington, D.C., hhttp://www.cdi.org/budget/2004/world-military-
spending.cfmi.
24. Barry R. Posen, ‘‘Command of the Commons: The Military Foundation of U.S. Hegem-
ony’’, International Security, Vol. 28, No. 1 (2003), pp. 5–46.
25. See Stewart Patrick and Shepard Forman, eds, Multilateralism and U.S. Foreign Policy:
Ambivalent Engagement (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2002). A companion volume of
non-US reactions is David M. Malone and Yuen Foong Khong, eds, Unilateralism and
U.S. Foreign Policy: International Perspectives (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2003).
26. Andrew Hurrell, ‘‘International Law and the Changing Constitution of International
Society’’, in Michael Byers, ed., The Role of Law in International Politics: Essays in In-
ternational Relations and International Law (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000),
p. 344.
27. See Mats Berdal, ‘‘The UN Security Council: Ineffective but Indispensable’’, Survival,
Vol. 45, No. 2 (2003), pp. 7–30; Shashi Tharoor, ‘‘Why America Still Needs the United
Nations’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 82, No. 5 (2003), pp. 67–80; and Madeleine K. Albright,
‘‘Think Again: United Nations’’, Foreign Policy, No. 138 (2003), pp. 16–24.
28. ‘‘Statement of H.E. George W. Bush, President of the United States of America,
2005 World Summit, High Level Plenary Meeting, September 14, 2005’’, hhttp://
www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2005/09/20050914.htmli.
29. K. J. Holsti, Taming the Sovereigns: Institutional Change in International Politics (Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 316.
13
Baghdad to Baghdad:
The United Kingdom’s odyssey
A. J. R. Groom and Sally Morphet
The United Kingdom and Iraq until 1990
In the nineteenth century the United Kingdom wished to maintain the vi-
ability of the Ottoman Empire to block the expansion of Russia from the
Black Sea to the Mediterranean. At the same time, the United Kingdom
was gradually establishing control over various political entities in the
Gulf as part of its strategy to safeguard the links with India. The Empire
was crucial in deciding UK policy.
The Ottoman Empire entered World War I in alliance with the central
powers and, as such, was coveted for UK imperial expansion as well as
an enemy.1 A British-led force, mainly of Indian troops, landed in Basra
and fought its way north to Baghdad. Politically, the United Kingdom
combined with the French to dismember parts of the Ottoman Empire
through the Sykes–Picot agreement. The United Kingdom was finally
awarded Palestine, Trans-Jordan and Iraq as Class A mandates of the
League of Nations. Oil was a factor in the case of Iraq, as well as in
neighbouring Iran, and Palestine was to defend the flanks of the Suez Ca-
nal. But all was not well since the UK government had been persuaded
by Zionists to offer a ‘‘national home for the Jews’’ in Palestine. It soon
became clear that this could not be achieved without harming the inter-
ests of the indigenous inhabitants of what was to become Palestine.
In Iraq, matters were not much better. It was made up of three Otto-
man vilayets and there were local aspirations to add a fourth, namely Ku-
wait, which, the British considered, should be a linchpin in the Gulf. Iraq
217
218 A. J. R. GROOM AND SALLY MORPHET
was ultimately an invention of Winston Churchill in his role of Secretary

for the Colonies. But Iraq was made up of unwilling people. The Kurds,
who had been promised but then denied their own state, rebelled. The
Turks felt thwarted by the loss of the northern towns of Mosul and Kir-
kuk, which dominated the northern oil fields, and, in the south, the Shi-
ites found themselves under a Sunni Hashemite monarchy very depen-
dent upon UK power. Throughout the region, indigenous peoples did
not wish to swap Ottoman domination for colonial control by the United
Kingdom, with its aerial colonial policing, France, Italy or the United
States.
In 1932 Iraq became independent and a member of the League of Na-
tions. UK control in the Middle East was fragile, particularly in Palestine
as well as in Egypt. World War II gave a new opportunity to those who
wished to challenge UK power: in Iraq there was an unsuccessful pro-
Nazi revolt. In the 1950s, a two-way struggle evolved between the United
Kingdom and the nationalists on the one hand and between Ba’athists
and Nasserites on the other. The United Kingdom failed to win US sup-
port and was able to count only on France, Israel and a few Common-
wealth countries in the disastrous Suez crisis in 1956. The United King-
dom’s attempt to form an alliance (the Baghdad pact) in the northern
tier of the region, as a buffer against Soviet expansion southwards, failed
when Iraq pulled out following the assassination of the king in 1958. Iraq
was subsequently governed by a succession of dictators, of whom Saddam
Hussein was but one of the longest-serving and most brutal.
Similarly the United Kingdom lost power through the nationalization
of UK oil interests in Iran by Prime Minister Mossadeq in 1951. The La-
bour government of Prime Minister Attlee seriously considered retaking
the installations by military force. Nevertheless, in connivance with the
CIA, Mossadeq was eventually overthrown and the Shah reinstated with
full political power as a pro-Western leader, as an instrument not so much
of UK hegemonic control as of the United States. Here as elsewhere, the
United States was establishing itself as the principal hegemonic power in
the region. Iraq was a key state both in the expansion of UK power in the
region as well as in its decline and ultimate collapse.
The independence of Kuwait in 1961 reopened the question of Iraq’s
claim. The United Kingdom redeployed troops to Kuwait as an emer-
gency protection force. The force was subsequently withdrawn and re-
placed by troops from Saudi Arabia and Egypt under the auspices of the
Arab League. Kuwait was generally recognized as an independent state
and the issue went into abeyance until 1990 without being resolved.
UK power continued to wane in the Gulf, although the UK Defence
White Paper of 1966 claimed that the United Kingdom’s front-line
stretched from the Himalayas to Suez. The UK Labour government
BAGHDAD TO BAGHDAD: THE UK’S ODYSSEY 219
had, nevertheless, to withdraw from east of Suez after the collapse of

sterling. Once this had been accomplished by the early 1970s, the ques-
tion arose of who would fill the vacuum. Quietly behind this, the United
States began to establish itself, not just in its traditional fiefdom, Saudi
Arabia (unaccountably it did not try to change the Wahabist teachings),
but also in the Gulf and in support of the Shah in Iran. But the lid was
blown off in the late 1970s when the Shah was forced into exile and the
Ayatollah Khomeini returned from his exile. After such a momentous
change, Iran’s neighbours, as well as the United States and the Soviet
Union, feared for their fiefdoms in various parts of the world as Iran’s
proselytizing revolutionary Shiite government began to try to exert its
power throughout the region.
In this context, and aggravated by recurrent local problems such as
control of Shatt-al-Arab and the Kurdish question, Iraq invaded Iran in
September 1980. The main external actors – the United States, France
and the Soviet Union – wished to put a cordon sanitaire around a revolu-
tionary Iran while not wishing to see Iraq win the war, since it would then
be in a position to control the Gulf and threaten Saudi Arabia’s political
stability. In short, balance was the name of the game and a bloody dead-
lock was the outcome.
The impasse was broken in terms of international diplomacy
when President Gorbachev’s fears about the overstretching of the Soviet
Union’s international commitments in Africa and Latin America meant
that he viewed the United Nations more positively. Western ministers
were eventually won round by his repeated positive gestures. The French
and UK ambassadors to the United Nations took the initiative to bring
about cooperation between the permanent five members of the Security
Council (the P-5) on a regular basis through a UK-hosted tea party in the
autumn of 1986. This led to a series of informal meetings, the first fruit of
which was the drafting of what became Security Council Resolution
(SCR) 598 on the ending of hostilities between Iran and Iraq. The ter-
rible war came to an end and Saddam Hussein found himself neither vic-
torious nor defeated but with enormous political, economic and social
burdens.
The United Kingdom and Iraq, 1990–2001

On 2 August 1990, Iraq invaded and shortly thereafter annexed Kuwait.2
Within six hours the Security Council met and passed SCR 660 condemn-
ing the invasion, and followed this four days later with SCR 661, applying
economic sanctions to Iraq. UK Prime Minister Thatcher gave strong
support to President Bush in the United States to ensure that he did not
‘‘wobble’’. Thereafter, the UK and US governments worked in close

accord. There were a number of observable patterns in the diplomacy of
the P-5 in the Security Council. Although the lead was normally taken by
the US government, this was almost invariably in close consultation with
the British. Indeed, on some resolutions the United Kingdom played the
leading role. These were the main activist states, although the French
role was crucial: as the French aligned themselves increasingly strongly
with the British and the Americans, then any proposal that had the sup-
port of the three was usually able to elicit support from the Soviet Union
and China, even though China was on the whole cautious and more
inclined to abstain.
There is some evidence to suggest that, in the early days, the United
States and the United Kingdom were prepared to act against Iraq outside
the framework of the United Nations if necessary, and the early
resolutions were shaped to permit this. However, it was realized that
legitimacy for military operations was essential and therefore the United
Kingdom and the United States became ever more concerned to develop
maximum support in the Security Council for the possible use of force.
Insofar as the practical elements of this were concerned, the British,
Americans and French were determined that forces should not be placed
under United Nations’ command and the resolutions on military action,
in particular SCRs 665 and 678, reflected this. The Soviet Union wanted
to work to the letter of the UN Charter, even though the Military Staff
Committee had never been used, but in the end it gave way because it
was not providing troops. The phrase ‘‘all necessary means’’ was used in
SCR 678 in order to placate Soviet susceptibilities and the USSR voted in
favour and China abstained. Although the operation was not a NATO
one, it took advantage of NATO experience.
In the actual fighting, the overwhelming military effort was by the
United States. The only other significant elements were those provided
by France and the United Kingdom. At the end of the operation, the
United Kingdom played a major role in drafting the Chapter VII de-
mands on Iraq in SCR 687. A French initiative, SCR 688 of April 1991,
was also significant. It stated that the oppression of Iraqi civilians and es-
pecially the Kurds by their own government had ‘‘consequences . . . which
threatened international peace and security in the region’’. SCR 688 (not
a Chapter VII resolution, but in its shadow) was used to justify interna-
tional intervention in Iraq to defend the Kurds. This led to a limited and
short intervention by UK, French and US troops in the north and then to
the establishment of a no-fly zone in which the three countries’ air forces
regularly patrolled the region to ensure that there would be no interven-
tion by Iraqi military forces. However, SCR 688 was not evoked at that
time to enable the allies to provide air cover and protection for the Shiite
population of the south, who had been brutally crushed by the Iraqi mil-
itary following an uprising at the end of the military operations – in short,
the Kurds were protected and the Shiites were not.
Air patrols in the north continued and were extended to the south by
the United States and the United Kingdom in the 1990s. At this point the
French withdrew from the operation and the P-5 were beginning to split
ever more ominously between the activist British and Americans and the
French, Russians and Chinese. The latter began to see sanctions as much
a part of the problem as of the solution since they were causing immense
hardship to the Iraqi population. The Iraqi regime, on the other hand, was
literally getting rich through sanctions. There were also differing inter-
pretations about the extent to which Iraq had conformed to the draco-
nian requirements for disarmament. The French, Russians and Chinese
were beginning to look to the period beyond the aftermath of the war
and SCR 687, whereas the British and Americans were insistent that Sad-
dam Hussein must complete the requirements in SCR 687 in a cast-iron
manner. Even when Saddam Hussein did move towards fulfilment, it
was not beyond the United States, in particular, to move the goalposts.
The application of the no-fly zone in the south signified the growing iso-
lation of the United Kingdom and the United States.
The no-fly zone reached almost to Baghdad and its purpose was to
make the Iraqi use of air power more difficult because its major bases
were in the south. From 1997 onwards this gave rise to two cat-and-
mouse games between the British and Americans and Saddam Hussein.
First, missiles were launched both as a sign of intent and as a punishment
when the two Western powers considered that there had been major
violations of disarmament procedures. Secondly, UK and US planes de-
stroyed ground installations if the Iraqis adopted ‘‘provocative’’ defen-
sive procedures. These incidents increased in tempo so that by the early
2000s the number of bombs dropped on Iraq was greater than had been
dropped in the Kosovo war. Historical analogies with UK aerial partici-
pation in the 1920s were clearly evident. Thus, as the new Bush adminis-
tration took office in January 2001, Iraq was firmly on the international
agenda for military, political and humanitarian reasons.
The operation to enforce the withdrawal of Iraq from the occupation
and annexation of Kuwait was as near a textbook example of collective
security at work as we are likely to see. It also stimulated a wide range
of activities by the international community, usually through the United
Nations, in a significant range of disputes. These were often of an internal
nature and had flared up after the ending of the Cold War and the disin-
tegration of the Soviet Union. In many of these the United Kingdom
played a major role. The case of Kosovo, in particular, raises important
questions for the intervention in Iraq.3 The operation in Kosovo under-
taken by NATO forces did not have a resolution from the UN Security
Council as a basis. It was therefore illegal, although arguments were
made that the series of resolutions in the Council created a logic that
was not crowned by the equivalent of SCR 678 only because of the likely
obstructionism of Russia and China in the Security Council. Given the
role that Russia played subsequently in ending the Kosovo crisis, it is at
least thinkable that, with more time and better diplomacy, Russia would
have agreed to a Kosovo intervention, in which case China might again
have abstained. This suggests there was a different dynamic in operation.
In 1990 and 1991 there was a clear violation of the UN Charter by Iraq
in an international dispute, whereas in Kosovo there was an internal
dispute in which the disputants were both, according to UN resolutions,
guilty of abuses of human rights and terrorist activities. What is more,
UK Prime Minister Tony Blair gave every indication of being on a mis-
sion to ‘‘get’’ Milosevic.4 It was a clear indication of Blair’s willingness,
as he himself stated later, to disregard certain Security Council resolu-
tions if they did not suit him or were an affront to his values.5 Even if
we are to take the argument that the Security Council was blocked by a
potential veto, there remained the Uniting for Peace Resolution. The
Kosovo question could then have been taken to the General Assembly,
where the necessary two-thirds majority might have provided some of
the legitimacy that was lacking. Moreover, in working for a Uniting for
Peace Resolution, the General Assembly has reasonably tight procedural
rules, so the question would not be a long-drawn-out affair. The General
Assembly cannot, however, authorize force. But, if the United States, the
United Kingdom, France and other NATO allies had failed to get a reso-
lution, then that would surely have been reason to think again about a
policy and the bases upon which it had been built. The significance for
UK policy is that a new proactive, morally driven, obsessed prime minis-
ter got away with it, along with his allies. Conviction politics had proved
to be not only convincing but also effective. The lesson was not lost on a
prime minister who managed to involve the United Kingdom in five wars
in his first six years of office.
Back to Baghdad, 2001–2005
The Blair government’s decision to go to war in Iraq created the biggest

foreign policy and moral crisis since Suez. Fiercely held and strongly
opposed positions have enveloped UK politics – domestic and foreign –
almost throughout the period since 11 September 2001. As Blair noted,
‘‘No decision I have ever made in politics has been as divisive as the de-
cision to go to war in Iraq.’’6 This is reflected in the way that foreign pol-
icy made within the government, with its allies and at the United Nations
was played in Parliament. There are further linkages: policy on Israel/
Palestine and Afghanistan; legal issues; political investigations; military
policy; and opinion polls. These linkages show that, given long-standing
UK involvement in Iraq before and after its independence, and Iraq’s
own complexities, there are many UK perspectives on Iraq and its inter-
nal and external situation both regionally and globally.
The development of UK foreign policy on Iraq
The deliberate attack on the World Trade Center in New York and the
Pentagon in Washington on 11 September 2001 just before the plenary
debate in the UN General Assembly (GA), though not a new phenome-
non, powerfully affected the United States. As Nicole Gnesotto has
noted, the US reaction comprised ‘‘urgency, militarisation, and unilater-
alism’’ and the United States ‘‘made the fight against terrorism and the
defence of its homeland absolute priorities’’.7 Freedman suggests that
9/11 ‘‘changed the terms of the security debate by establishing the notion
that potential threats had to be dealt with before they became actual’’.8
Nevertheless, Blair is said, at that time, to have pressed the US admin-
istration not to attack Iraq and to focus on building an alliance against
al-Qaeda and the Taliban regime in Afghanistan.9 He first visited US
President Bush at Camp David in February 2001, when they discussed
weapons of mass destruction (WMD).10
Despite the resurgence of unilateralism, the United Nations was, as
has often been the case, still used. Two SCRs on terrorism were passed
in the aftermath of the September bombings and Bush spoke to the Gen-
eral Assembly in the November 2001 debate on terrorism, which also
produced a further SCR on a global effort to combat it (all these were
unanimous). The UK government was also influenced by 9/11 and re-
vised its strategy towards the Saddam regime to one in which regime
change became more prominent. Moreover, Bush referred to the ‘‘axis
of evil’’ including Iraq in his State of the Union speech in January 2002.
After Blair’s visit to Bush in Texas in April 2002, he said:
The moment for decision on how to act is not yet with us . . . But to allow WMD
to be developed by a state like Iraq without let or hindrance would be grossly to
ignore the lessons of September 11th and we will not do it. The message to Sad-
dam is clear: he has to let the inspectors back in – anyone, any time, any place
that the international community demands. If necessary, the action should be mil-
itary – and again, if necessary and justified, it should involve regime change.11
As the domestic debate on Iraq developed strongly over the summer of

2002, Blair promised to release a dossier on the subject. He considered
that Iraq should be taken to the United Nations but only so long as it
was ‘‘a way of dealing with the matter rather than a means of avoiding
it’’.12 Blair went to discuss the situation with Bush on the weekend of
7 September; in the GA plenary debate on 12 September, Bush then
called for a new UN resolution or resolutions on enforcement of weapons
inspection. ‘‘If the Iraq regime defies us again, the world must move de-
liberately, decisively to hold Iraq to account. We will work with the Secu-
rity Council for the necessary resolutions. But the purpose of the United
States should not be doubted. The Security Council resolutions will be
enforced – the just demands of peace and security will be met – or action
will be unavoidable.’’
Parliament was subsequently recalled to discuss Iraq issues on 24 Sep-
tember 2002. Blair released what became known as the ‘‘dodgy’’ dossier
on the subject. He stated inter alia that the UN Secretary-General had
decided to end negotiations on the admission of inspectors in July. On
WMD he noted that the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC), which con-
siders UK intelligence overall, had concluded that Iraq had chemical and
biological weapons and that Saddam had existing and active military
plans for their use; they could be activated within 45 minutes, including
against his Shiite population. Saddam was trying actively to acquire a nu-
clear weapons capacity. The dossier proved problematical for the govern-
ment when much of it was found to contain quotations from an old PhD
thesis – 53 Labour MPs rebelled.
Meanwhile, a long and difficult negotiating process led to SCR 1441
being adopted unanimously on 8 November 2002. Acting under Chapter
VII, the Security Council decided that Iraq had been and remained in
material breach of its obligations under relevant resolutions, in particular
through its failure to cooperate with UN inspectors and the International
Atomic Energy Agency. The resolution gave Iraq a last opportunity to
comply with its disarmament obligations. The penultimate paragraph re-
called that the Council had repeatedly warned Iraq that it would face se-
rious consequences if it continued in violation of its obligations. The res-
olution may well have been deliberately ambiguous, providing ‘‘a legal
safety valve which helps to buy time in the hope that the problems giving
rise to its deployment can be addressed later, in circumstances more
favourable to the continued rule of law – and to real diplomatic agree-
ment’’.13 Iraq subsequently allowed inspectors under Dr Hans Blix to re-
turn (before the end of November) and provided a declaration of its dis-
armament programmes (in December) as required by the resolution. It
denied that it had a WMD capability.
In January 2003, Franco-German relations came into the Iraq orbit.14
Germany joined the Security Council as a non-permanent member on

1 January. France under President Chirac and Germany under Chancel-
lor Schröder celebrated 40 years of reconciliation at Versailles later that
month. There Schröder noted that close cooperation between France and
Germany, particularly on an international level, was more important than
ever. Their views were countered both by a pro-US declaration agreed to
inter alia by prime ministers Aznar of Spain, Berlusconi of Italy and Blair
and by a similar declaration by 10 Central and East European states.
Meanwhile, US forces had been building up in the Gulf and UK Defence
Secretary Geoff Hoon announced in January that 26,000 soldiers were to
be deployed there (others had been sent in the previous autumn). Both
the Foreign Secretary, Jack Straw, and the Prime Minister were of the
view that, if Saddam complied, war was not inevitable, although they
noted the official line that a second resolution authorizing war was pref-
erable but not essential. In early February, Russia joined the group coun-
selling against military action.15
On 31 January 2003 Blair flew to a difficult meeting at Camp David fol-
lowing talks in Washington between Secretary of State Powell and Straw.
The coalition was said to need another six weeks to bring around public
opinion. These actions were made more difficult by huge anti-war pro-
tests in Europe (4 million overall), including at least 1 million in London
on 15 February. The protests were followed by a debate in the House of
Commons on 26 February when 121 MPs voted against the war. Clare
Short, the Development Secretary, subsequently threatened to resign
and Robin Cook resigned on 17 March. Blix meanwhile reported to the
Security Council in February and March and asked, inter alia, for more
time; the inspectors had not found any WMD. It became more and more
obvious that a second resolution on Iraq could not be agreed because the
six non-aligned members of the Security Council (Angola, Cameroon,
Chile, Guinea, Pakistan and Syria),16 which wielded a collective veto,
had not agreed to support such a resolution. Their determination was for-
tified by the knowledge that either France or Russia would use its veto.
Nevertheless, on 7 March a second resolution was tabled by Straw giving
Iraq 10 days to come into line; it was withdrawn on the 17th. Chirac had
made it clear that, until Blix had been given reasonable time, he would
veto a resolution although, if necessary, France was ready to take mili-
tary action if Iraq did not comply.
Bush and Blair met in the Azores on 16 March 2003 with Spanish
Prime Minister Aznar and Portuguese Prime Minister Baroso. On 18
March the House of Commons voted on the war: 139 Labour MPs
rebelled, but this figure was not sufficient to stop the Prime Minister
from gaining parliamentary backing for action. The war began on 20
March.
Linkages – Palestine and Afghanistan
A letter from former UK diplomats published in The Times (27 April

2004) noted, correctly, that the Israel/Palestine problem had poisoned re-
lations between the West and the Islamic and Arab worlds for decades
and referred to the new fact that the Prime Minister had, by following
Bush and Sharon, ‘‘abandoned the principles which for nearly four de-
cades have guided international efforts to restore peace in the Holy Land
and which have been the basis for such successes as those efforts have
produced’’. It ended, ‘‘there is no case for supporting policies which are
doomed to failure’’. Palestine was mentioned only once in Blair’s speech
of March 2004 in his home constituency of Sedgefield, even though ‘‘the
emotional thrust of the neoconservatives’ campaign against Iraq was pre-
dicated more on the security needs of Israel which Saddam really threat-
ened, than that of the US’’.17 The Palestine problem cannot be settled
by the United States and Israel. The rule of law and justice remains
important.
Bush was much less interested than Blair in the long-term development
of Afghanistan once both al-Qaeda and the Taliban had been removed,18
notwithstanding the return of the warlords and flourishing drug produc-
tion. This made it more difficult to engage in long-term well-considered
nation-building.
Legal issues
In March 2003 the Attorney General, Lord Goldsmith, stated that the le-
gal grounds for the United Kingdom’s authority to use force against Iraq
existed from the combined effect of SCRs 678, 687 and 1441.19 SCR 678
had authorized force against Iraq and the ceasefire resolution SCR 687
had only suspended SCR 678’s authority. A material breach of SCR 687
existed (as asserted in SCR 1441) because Iraq had not complied with its
obligations to disarm. SCR 1441 had also not been complied with; this
was a further material breach. Thus, authority to use force under SCR
678 had been revived. SCR 1441 had not intended a further SC resolu-
tion to authorize force. All it required was the reporting and discussion
of Iraq’s failures. A similar argument had been used by the UK govern-
ment in the context of US/UK bombing of Iraq in Operation Desert Fox
(1998–99).20 The case made above was accepted by only a minority of
UK legal experts.21 The detailed advice to the government given by the
Attorney General, a close friend of the Prime Minister, has not been
revealed.
The Attorney General subsequently advised (on 26 March 2003) of the
need for Security Council authorization for the coalition or the interna-
tional community to establish an interim Iraqi administration to reform
and restructure Iraq and its administration.22 Iraq had become an amal-
gam of moral, political and legal argument. The Foreign and Common-
wealth Office had been shaken by the resignation of the deputy legal ad-
viser, Elizabeth Wilmshurst, a few days earlier. A previous legal adviser,
Sir Frank Berman, has subsequently argued that the Blair government’s
action was illegal. Berman notes: ‘‘At the level of theory, a truly perpet-
ual authorization to resort to force at the option of the authorized party
would appear to be indistinguishable from the delegation away, if only
in part, of the Council’s ‘primary responsibility’ under Article 24 of the
Charter.’’23
The essential concern of Lord Goldsmith’s case was Saddam Hussein’s
possible non-compliance with the disarmament clauses of SCR 687 and
his hindrance of full and complete inspection procedures – not regime
change. There is a difference, too, between SCR 678, which stressed that
‘‘all necessary means’’ would be used if Iraq failed to comply with certain
resolutions before 15 January, and SCR 1441, which used the phrase
‘‘serious consequences’’, with the possible implication that the Security
Council might move on to ‘‘all necessary means’’ in the event of Iraq’s
non-compliance. This would depend on Blix’s investigations and report
to the Council. Many considered there was a need for a second Security
Council resolution – the Blair government saw this only as desirable. The
PM’s Private Secretary wrote to Goldsmith on 15 March 2003 on the
question of the existence of hard evidence of Saddam Hussein’s non-
compliance with SCRs 687 and 1441. He stated, ‘‘it is indeed the Prime
Minister’s unequivocal view that Iraq is in further material breach of its
obligations, as in operative paragraph four of UN SCR 1441’’,24 despite
the fact (see below) that the Joint Intelligence Committee made no as-
sessments of the Iraqi declaration after 18 December 2002. It would have
been useful to know what aspects of this wide-ranging paragraph the
Prime Minister thought were breached by Iraq: certainly Saddam Hus-
sein’s claim that he had no weapons of mass destruction was almost cer-
tainly correct.
Political investigations
Much of the political investigation that followed was concerned with

whether the Prime Minister was correct at the time in his estimation of
Saddam Hussein’s behaviour and why the Blix investigation had not
been given time to do its job. Military imperatives and the action policy
of regime change argued otherwise. The investigations of Hutton, Butler
and others have not concluded that the Prime Minister was deliber-
ately leading the Attorney General astray, but the charge has not gone
away. Butler actually notes ‘‘that despite its importance to the determina-
tion of whether Iraq was in further material breach of its obligations
under Resolution 1441, the JIC made no further assessment of the Iraqi
declaration beyond its ‘Initial Assessment’ provided on 18 December
[2002]’’.25
The House of Commons Select Committee on Foreign Affairs con-
cluded, following the bombing of the UK consulate in Istanbul in Novem-
ber 2003, ‘‘that the threats facing the United Kingdom, both at home and
overseas, in the war against terrorism have not diminished’’. In particu-
lar, ‘‘the war in Iraq has possibly made terrorist attacks against UK na-
tionals and UK interests more likely in the short term’’.26 Blair’s period
in office will be indelibly marked by the Iraqi affairs.
Military policy
The Ministry of Defence and the Prime Minister’s office are said to have
been at odds about the question of when to deploy UK troops, which ar-
rived in the Gulf later than their US counterparts.27 The former thought
that earlier deployment would put more pressure on Saddam; the latter
considered it might add to the opposition to the war in the United King-
dom. However, it was made abundantly clear by the UK military at the
highest level that before they entered into military action they required
cover both politically and legally. Politically, it was now necessary to
have the agreement of the House of Commons to military action and for
the action itself to be legal. As Air Marshal Sir Timothy Garden com-
mented, ‘‘and this isn’t just niceties anymore, of course, because now
with the International Criminal Court a reality and the UK signed up to
it, there is a need for UK military, particularly senior commanders, to be
assured that what they are doing is covered’’.28 They also need to be
aware of the European Court of Human Rights. Abuses by UK soldiers
of prisoners held under UK custody make these soldiers ultimately liable
at both national and European levels.
A military imperative influenced events because of UK troops’ diffi-
culty in operating at full capacity and efficiency with the onset of summer
heat. It became urgent to push Blix aside in order to deploy troops at an
appropriate time. Moreover, many of the armed forces were reservists
and to keep them in this high state of readiness away from home for
long periods was politically damaging. Moreover, withdrawal would have
handed Saddam Hussein a political victory and created a hole in US war
plans at the last minute, thus aggravating the loss of the northern front
because of Turkey’s refusal to join the coalition. In the actual war, the
UK contingent performed their tasks with reasonable efficiency although
there was a string of complaints about the inappropriate supply of equip-
ment and also about its reliability. As the UK contingent settled into the
routine of pacification and peacekeeping in the Basra area, charges of
abuse by UK troops were made – these are now going through legal
processes.
Opinion polls
The differing perspectives of UK voters over intervention in Iraq were

shown through the polls. The Guardian/ICM war tracker poll29 from 25
August 2002 to 13 April 2003 asked the question: ‘‘Do you approve or
disapprove of the military attack on Iraq to remove Saddam Hussein?’’
Of the 14 polls taken between August 2002 and mid-March 2003, all
showed more support for the anti-war movement, except for the one fol-
lowing the Bali bombing in October. The peak was reached in February
2003 with the march against the war in London – 52 per cent of UK
voters stated that they opposed the war.
The situation changed once the war had begun in March 2003. Four
days later, opposition had reduced to 30 per cent from 44 per cent and
the pro-war vote had gone up from 38 per cent to 54 per cent. A further
ICM poll on 9 September 2004, however, found that 70 per cent of the
respondents wanted a deadline set for the withdrawal of UK soldiers
from Iraq (a similar poll in May 2004 had found that 45 per cent of voters
wanted troops to remain in Iraq for as long as necessary).30 A poll for
The Times in January 2005 showed that fewer than 30 per cent believed
the war was the right thing to do.31
Conclusions
It is hard not to see UK government policy on Iraq as anything other

than the Prime Minister’s policy. Blair was criticized in the Butler report
for his method of taking decisions and for a misuse of the civil service.32
Many of the decisions were taken with a small group of advisers. Blair
appears autocratic in the way he overrides his party, the Cabinet and the
public. He often targets individuals (Slobodan Milosevic, Saddam Hus-
sein and Robert Mugabe) and seeks regime change through their re-
moval. He seems to be driven by the need to do what he considers to be
right, and he is willing to push international law and the United Nations
out of the way if they impede his crusade. Nor is he above being econom-
ical with the truth. Although Blair has great belief in his own vision of the
truth and considers himself a great persuader, when called upon to de-
liver the United Nations in support of the Bush–Blair drive for regime
change through finding weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, he was not
able to get a second resolution through the Security Council. Indeed, his
only real influence on Bush seems to have been to cause the United
States to return to the framework of the United Nations, but this was
only temporary. Nevertheless the problem has, once again, gone back to
the United Nations through the need for international cooperation and
UN legitimacy.
Blair had little political support among his colleagues for his Iraq pol-
icy. It would be fascinating to know whether he ever considered follow-
ing Prime Minister Wilson’s course over Viet Nam – that is, no military
involvement. It has been widely bruited about that Foreign Secretary
Straw had many misgivings. Defence Secretary Hoon was close to Blair,
whereas Robin Cook and Clare Short both resigned. Other heavyweights
such as Brown and Blunkett kept a very low profile on the issue of Iraq
and only the Attorney General, Lord Goldsmith, could be trusted to sup-
port Blair, perhaps on the basis more of personal friendship than of legal
conviction, although this is speculation. Nevertheless, despite resigna-
tions from the Cabinet and muted support from the rest, despite a di-
vided political party and despite a largely hostile public opinion, Blair
continued. Whatever the cost, the United Kingdom is now back in Bagh-
dad, if only in the green zone, but there is no hint of an exit strategy
other than the establishment of ‘‘democracy’’ in Iraq.
Blair seems to pursue a two-level policy. At one level he wishes to
share in global management with the United States. He has embraced
what General de Gaulle always suspected of the British, that they would
choose the grand large over a full commitment to European questions.
Yet, at another level, Blair is committed to the United Kingdom being at
the heart of Europe. However, his policy on one makes the other more
difficult and the split between the United Kingdom, on the one hand,
and France and Germany (not to mention Russia and China), on the
other, is clear. The United Kingdom has moved more into the European
framework because of this split, particularly regarding European inde-
pendence in defence matters, even in the face of stiff US opposition.33
Blair, like many others, takes a Western view of the Middle East, one
that is closely allied to that of the US neoconservatives. He accepts that
Israel, a nuclear power unharried by the West, should maintain many of
its policies over Palestine and that it should add even more land to the 78
per cent it has occupied since 1948. He shares his oscillating views on the
rule of law with his Israeli counterparts. The non-aligned states see this
differently. At their summit in Kuala Lumpur in February 2003, they, as
always, reiterated their support for the Palestine people and recalled that
in 1948 more than half were uprooted and forced to live as refugees.
They recalled Israel’s foreign occupation of the remainder of Occupied
Palestinian Territory, including East Jerusalem since 1967. They noted
that the occupying power had systematically established and expanded
settlements, reflecting a new and special form of settler colonialism. The
US entry into Iraq was predicated on the security needs of Israel.34 Al-
though many Western governments find it difficult to take this seriously,
the need for real justice for the Palestinians unites the global South be-
yond its Arab and Islamic states. Perhaps Blair will recognize this in his
forthcoming conference with the Palestinians in London or is this just
doing Bush and Sharon’s work of disciplining the new leadership to US–
Israeli policy imperatives?
There is also the question of economic costs. Iraqi debts to the United
Kingdom are, fortunately, modest. The United Kingdom is far behind Ja-
pan, Russia, France, Germany, Italy and the United States, to whom the
Iraqis are most indebted. For them it is a question of billions, whereas for
the United Kingdom it is a question of millions.35 Nevertheless, the eco-
nomic cost of the war is significant and victory was only an economic and
political down payment. The United Kingdom is faced with continuing in-
stalments of the cost of the occupation in what is really a second phase of
the war. Moreover, the United Kingdom has not done well in gaining
contracts, except, perhaps, in the slightly dubious area of security firms
supplying personnel, who are, in effect, mercenaries.
The disenchanted UK public are not only concerned about the
economic costs. They are losing trust in the political system. The UK
public were strongly against the government’s policy, and they have been
ignored. This contributes significantly to the erosion of the legitimacy of
the political system that is evident in many mature democracies where
people consider that the electoral system is fair but that governments
ignore their wishes once in office. Like Bush, Blair was able to push
through his policies because there was no structured internal opposition.
In the House of Commons, the main opposition was within the Labour
Party since the Conservatives, who themselves were in disarray, largely
supported Blair, and the only party that was strongly opposed to him
was the Liberal Democrats. As a result, it was Blair versus the differing
perspectives of the UK people, and the people so far have lost. The con-
sequence is that, for the time being, the United Kingdom is firmly up the
creek without a paddle.
Notes
1. For the history of Iraq, consult Christopher Catherwood, Winston’s Folly: Imperialism
and the Creation of Modern Iraq (London: Constable, 2004); Toby Dodge, Inventing
Iraq: The Failure of Nation Building and a History Denied (London: Hurst, 2003); S. H.
Longrigg, Iraq, 1900 to 1950 (London: Oxford University Press, 1956); Pierre-Jean Lui-
zard, La formation de l’Irak contemporain (Paris: Editions du CNRS, 1991); P. Sluglett,
Britain in Iraq, 1914–1932 (London: Ithaca Press, 1976); Charles Tripp, A History of
Iraq (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
2. For an analysis of the 1990–1991 crisis and subsequent developments, see A. J. R.

Groom and Paul Taylor, ‘‘The United Nations and the Gulf War, 1990–1991: Back to
the Future’’, RIIA Discussion Paper No. 38, London, 1992; and A. J. R. Groom, Ed-
ward Newman and Paul Taylor, ‘‘Burdensome Victory: The United Nations and Iraq’’,
Working Paper No. 163, Peace Research Centre, Australian National University, Can-
berra, 1996.
3. For an analysis of the Kosovo crisis from the UN perspective, see A. J. R. Groom and
Paul Taylor, ‘‘The United Nations and Kosovo’’, in Ramesh Thakur and Albrecht
Schnabel, eds, The Kosovo Conflict (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2000).
For an analysis of Blair’s policy, see John Kampfner, Blair’s Wars (2nd edn, New
York: Free Press, 2004), pp. 36–61.
4. Kampfner, Blair’s Wars, p. 59.
5. See Blair’s speech on global terrorism at Sedgefield, 5 March 2004 (Guardian, 5 March
2004).
6. Ibid., p. 1.
7. Nicole Gnesotto, ‘‘Reacting to America’’, Survival, Vol. 44, No. 4 (2002–3), p. 99.
8. Lawrence Freedman, ‘‘War in Iraq: Selling the Threat’’, Survival, Vol. 46, No. 2 (2004),
p. 38.
9. Patrick Wintour and Martin Kettle, ‘‘Blair’s Road to War’’, Guardian, 26 April 2003,
pp. 12–15. This has been extensively used in this analysis.
10. Blair’s speech at Sedgefield, p. 5.
11. Guardian, 26 April 2003, p. 12.
12. Ibid.
13. Michael Byers, ‘‘Agreeing to Disagree: Security Council Resolution 1441’’, Global Gov-
ernance, Vol. 10, No. 2 (2004), p. 181.
14. Guardian, 26 April 2003, p. 14.
15. Ibid., p. 12.
16. Mexico is not a member of the non-aligned movement, though it is an observer.
18. Ibid., pp. 129–151.
19. Hansard (Lords), 17 March 2003, cols WA2–3.
20. Lord Grabiner, QC, ‘‘After Iraq: The Fallout’’, a seminar report published by the law
firm, Ashurst, London, 18 November 2003, pp. 32–33. See also Marc Weller, ‘‘The US,
Iraq and the Use of Force in a Unipolar World’’, Survival, Vol. 41, No. 4 (1999–2000).
21. Richard Norton-Taylor, Guardian, 3 March 2004. See also Professor Philippe Sands QC,
Memorandum on International Law and the Use of Force for the House of Commons
Select Committee on Foreign Affairs, 1 June 2004.
22. Reported in New Statesman, 22 May 2003, p. 17.
23. Frank Berman, ‘‘The Authorization Model: Resolution 678 and Its Effects’’, in David
M. Malone, ed., The UN Security Council: From the Cold War to the 21 st Century (Boul-
der, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2004), p. 164.
24. Guardian, 15 July 2004.
25. Lord Butler, Review of Intelligence on Weapons of Mass Destruction (London: The Sta-
tionery Office, 2004), p. 155.
26. Select Committee on Foreign Affairs, Foreign Policy Aspects of the War against Terror-
ism: Second Report, 2003–04, HC81 (London: The Stationery Office, 2004), paragraphs
329 and 123.
27. Guardian, 26 April 2003.
28. Air Marshal Sir Timothy Garden in the seminar report published by Ashurst, p. 23.
29. Guardian, 26 April 2003.
30. Chris Marsden, ‘‘Britain: Iraq Debacle Deepens Crisis of Blair Government’’, World
Socialist Web Site, 24 September 2004, hhttp://www.wsws.org/articles/2004/sep2004/

blai-s24.shtmli, p. 1.
31. Peter Riddell, ‘‘Support for Iraq War at Its Lowest Level, Poll Says’’, The Times, 12
January 2005.
32. Lord Butler, Review of Intelligence.
33. See A. J. R. Groom, ‘‘Britain and Europe: Looking through the Defence Prism’’,
ARÈS, Vol. 21, No. 54 (2005).
35. Le Monde, 23 November 2004.
14
Explaining France’s opposition
to the war against Iraq
Jean-Marc Coicaud, with Hélène Gandois
and Lysette Rutgers
Throughout the unfolding of the Iraq crisis in the early 2000s, France has
been portrayed as an unrepentant anti-US country, a partisan of the sta-
tus quo, a supporter of multilateral institutions and the international rule
of law, and even, at times, a pacifist nation. Depending on the observer,
the French stance on the issue has been regarded as irritating (indeed,
deeply irritating for Washington) or commendable. As a result, two dia-
metrically opposed images of France have emerged. One, which has been
particularly virulent in the US media, has simply led to the vilification of
France and its portrayal as either a traitor or a coward; the other has pic-
tured France as a defender of the United Nations, international peace
and international legitimacy. This black and white portrait does not
match reality. The truth stands somewhere between these two extremes.
This chapter aims at providing an explanation of the French opposition
to the war against Iraq in winter 2002 and spring 2003. In order to do so,
we stress the fact that the 2002–2003 stalemate between France and the
United States (and the United Kingdom) was not a one-off but, rather, is
part of long-term trends and tendencies in French foreign policy. We
therefore begin by outlining the core characteristics of French foreign
policy. We then explain how the reasons at the heart of the French oppo-
sition to the war against Iraq, although neither totally egoistic nor com-
pletely altruistic, are part and parcel of its strategic vision of the world
and the Middle East. Finally, we evaluate France’s current position vis-
à-vis Iraq, the Middle East and the United States, and touch upon how
it is likely to evolve in the near future.
234
EXPLAINING FRANCE’S OPPOSITION TO THE IRAQ WAR 235
Core characteristics of French foreign policy
To gain an accurate picture of French foreign policy, it helps not only

to be aware of its core values but also to have a precise idea of the me-
chanics of the decision-making process.
The essentials of French foreign policy
At the heart of French foreign policy are three basic elements: the
national interest, an international projection of influence, and a commit-
ment to the international order via a balance of power and the interna-
tional rule of law. This, and especially the last element, leads French for-
eign policy to understand multilateralism in terms of multipolarity.
The primacy of national interest is the single most important factor.
Like any other country, France has two major goals in the pursuit of its
national interest: it tries to secure as many guarantees as possible to pre-
serve its existence, nationally and internationally; and it seeks to define
and bend the terms and modalities of its relations with other nations in
ways favourable to its interest.1
The second characteristic of French foreign policy, the international
projection of influence, has to be understood in connection with the fact
that, for France, the time is long gone when it could envision its projec-
tion of power beyond borders as part of a hegemonic agenda – regional
or global. No longer being able to shape the world, France has adopted
the medium of influence as a second best to try to continue to have an
international impact.
Not losing sight of the political, geopolitical, economic and security
needs associated with its national interest, France seeks to have interna-
tional influence by focusing on those regions in which it still counts. In
this respect, the construction of the European community has increas-
ingly become an essential concern for France since the 1960s.2 Lately,
this European focus has included following closely not only the evolution
of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) but also the emer-
gence, since the signature in Maastricht in 1993 of the Treaty on Euro-
pean Union, of the Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP).
Beyond Europe, there are three other regions in which French foreign
policy seeks to have a special influence: West Africa, North Africa and
the Middle East. In West Africa and North Africa, France remains a sig-
nificant actor (probably more in West Africa than in North Africa), able
to be a decisive factor in many situations. In the Middle East, on the
other hand, its influence, while continuing to be important, is more intan-
gible. France has strategic (oil), commercial3 and some military4 interests
236 JEAN-MARC COICAUD ET AL.
in the region. However, its leverage in the Middle East is not comparable
to its leverage in the regions where it exercises a prime influence.
The third element of permanence in French foreign policy is a commit-
ment to multilateralism as a way of promoting a multipolar world and
the politics of collective security that the United Nations represents. The
French commitment to the United Nations, multilateralism and multipo-
larity cannot be separated from its equally important support for the bal-
ance of power. As a matter of fact, these elements have come to work to-
gether in French diplomacy.
Using the balance of power as a way to mitigate or hamper the over-
whelming power of one country over others, in Europe or globally, has
been one of the key concerns of France’s diplomacy of the post–World
War II era.5 French presidents, starting with General de Gaulle and
continuing with Georges Pompidou, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, François
Mitterrand and Jacques Chirac, have all, regardless of their political affil-
iation and beyond at times notable foreign policy differences, borne in
mind the need to balance the global weight of superpowers. In times of
bipolarity such as during the Cold War, France adopted a ‘‘middle of
the road’’ position between the Soviet Union and the United States,
while being at heart a close ally to the United States. Today, although
continuing to see itself as a natural ally of the United States, it is eager
to keep US power in check.
France initially approached multilateralism and the United Nations
with scepticism, but over time its inclination to endorse multipolarity has
worked hand in hand with a plea for multilateralism as well as for inter-
national security management via the United Nations. France’s support
for multipolarity and multilateralism became as much a matter of prin-
ciple (with an international system in which agreed-upon regulations and
initiatives play a significant role) as a question of realpolitik.6 Moreover,
the centrality of the Security Council gave France an international power
that it could no longer claim on its own.7
The French foreign policy decision-making process
The French constitution makes the president of the Republic responsible

for France’s foreign policy.8 The president has the prerogative of indicat-
ing what should be the main strategic directions of French foreign policy.
It is then the responsibility of the minister of foreign affairs, monitored by
the prime minister, to implement the foreign policy decided by the presi-
dent. Of course, the reality of the decision-making process in French for-
eign policy is more complicated than is outlined in the constitution.
To begin with, the French president does not have carte blanche. The
political and normative guidelines accumulated over the years by French

diplomacy cannot be ignored. The president also has to take into account
the various strategic political, economic and geopolitical interests that co-
alesce in French foreign policy at any given time.
In addition, to have the president outlining French foreign policy, and
the minister of foreign affairs and the prime minister implementing it,
works well when these actors belong to the same political majority. But
conducting French foreign policy can become tricky when this is not the
case. The tensions associated with ‘‘cohabitation’’ (during which the pres-
ident is of one party and the prime minister and his government of an-
other) serve as a case in point. The first cohabitation in 1986–1988, be-
tween the socialist President François Mitterrand and the right-wing
Prime Minister Jacques Chirac, the second one in 1993–1995 between
President Mitterrand and the right-wing Prime Minister Edouard Balla-
dur, and the third one in 1997–2002 between President Jacques Chirac
and socialist Prime Minister Lionel Jospin on a number of occasions gen-
erated turf wars between the president and the government over foreign
policy questions.
Moreover, even in ideal political circumstances, the range of actors de-
ciding and implementing French foreign policy goes beyond the presi-
dent, the prime minister and the minister of foreign affairs and their re-
spective staffs. French foreign policy is also the outcome of a process
involving other ministries, including the ministry of defence and the min-
istry of economy, finance and industry. Furthermore, these institutional
actors serve as the channels through which the concerns of the various
public, semi-public and private sectors relevant to foreign policy are
heard and taken on board.
Another feature that is worth underlining in relation to the foreign
policy decision-making process is that French foreign policy is now ‘‘de-
militarized’’. This certainly does not imply that the defence industry is an
insignificant part of French foreign policy. After all, France is the third-
biggest arms exporter in the world.9 Nor does this imply that the French
military establishment has no place in the institutional framework of
French foreign policy, although it is hardly part of the decision-making
process. The French military establishment is meant to have a say, but
its input is quite minimal. Interestingly, this is somewhat similar to the sit-
uation in another permanent member of the UN Security Council, the
United Kingdom. However, it is in sharp contrast to the situation of the
three other permanent members of the Security Council – the United
States, Russia and China. In these countries, beyond the differences in
civil–military relations (and in the relations of political and military insti-
tutions), military actors, each in their own way, have an important voice
in the foreign policy decision-making process.10
The road to war and the French attitude
These characteristics of French foreign policy serve as a backdrop for

the analysis of the French position during the Iraq crisis. They certainly
help us to understand the careful course that France tried to steer be-
tween the autumn of 2002 and the early months of 2003 between what it
saw as the Scylla of an illegal and illegitimate unilateral American inter-
vention, and the Charybdis of having to support a war that would lead
it to be associated with a vilified image of the United States in Arabs’
eyes.
Following the war against the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, the
Bush administration pushed Iraq onto the international agenda and
forced countries to take a stance on the threat it allegedly represented.
From the start, France’s reaction was uneasy. Certainly, on the occasion
of the conference of French ambassadors held in Paris in August 2002,
Foreign Minister Dominique de Villepin declared that Saddam Hussein’s
defiance of the international community was not acceptable. He sug-
gested that France would not necessarily oppose the use of force if Iraq
did not agree to comply with its disarmament obligations. But he also
added that the international community should decide the measures to
be taken through a collective process. More to the point, he stressed
that no military action could be conducted without a Security Council
decision.11
Later, in the autumn of 2002, President Jacques Chirac outlined a two-
stage UN process to address the Iraq crisis. This process envisioned a first
stage that would demand Iraq’s compliance with a more rigorous weap-
ons inspection regime. Upon failure by Iraq to comply, the second stage
would request that the Security Council take action to deal with the
problem.12 President Chirac insisted as well on the fact that use of force
was a possibility provided that it was decided by the international com-
munity on the basis of indisputable proof.
A key aspect of the French cooperation with the United States and the
United Kingdom in the Security Council in the autumn of 2002 for the
drafting and adoption of UN Resolution 1441 and the implementation of
the inspection regime that followed was therefore France’s firmness on
the fact that the resolution on Iraqi disarmament and weapons inspec-
tions should not contain an automatic recourse to force. From a French
perspective, the drafting and adoption of a UN Security Council resolu-
tion that did not contain an automatic recourse to force had the official
merit of emphasizing the ultimate authority of the UN Security Coun-
cil.13 Less officially, it also had the advantage for France of denying
Washington the right unilaterally to declare Iraq in non-compliance and
thus the ability to go to war over Iraqi lapses. And it demonstrated to the
French public and the world at large that the international community
was going the extra mile to avoid war. What all of this meant, however,
was that the divergence of views between France and the United States
(and the United Kingdom) was likely to create problems down the road
over the threshold for compliance, how it should be interpreted and how
the international community should act in the event of disagreement.
This is exactly what happened.
Deep differences soon emerged in the interpretation of the text of Res-
olution 1441 regarding whether it authorized UN member states to use
force against Iraq.14 The French position was that Resolution 1441 did
not contain the signal words ‘‘use all necessary means’’ which have tradi-
tionally been considered vital to a Security Council authorization of
the use of force.15 This interpretation was supported by the fact that rep-
resentatives of all the members of the Security Council, including the
United States and the United Kingdom, had publicly confirmed, at the
time of its adoption, that Resolution 1441 contained no ‘‘hidden triggers’’
or ‘‘automaticity’’ with respect to the use of force.16 But this did not ex-
clude the United States from also envisioning acting unilaterally if it saw
fit.17
Between December 2002 and March 2003, the accumulated evidence
could not demonstrate in absolute terms the existence of weapons of
mass destruction (WMD) in Iraq. Yet the Bush administration and
Blair’s government were adamant about going to war, no matter what.18
And the more eager the United States and the United Kingdom were to
act, the less France was willing to compromise and the more it became
opposed to war. What had been envisaged by President Chirac as a pos-
sibility (the use of force) in the autumn of 2002 became an impossibility
in March 2003. Ultimately, France gave more credit to Hans Blix and his
inspectors’ point of view than to the White House and Downing Street.
The French government was not disputing the horrific nature of Saddam
Hussein’s regime. It simply felt that war against Iraq was not justified on
the grounds of weapons of mass destruction.
In the end, France could not be convinced to give its support to a sec-
ond resolution of the Security Council that would have justified the mili-
tary intervention in Iraq. After it became clear that the second resolution
would not get a majority, not to mention the French (and possibly Rus-
sian) veto, the United States, the United Kingdom and Spain decided to
withdraw the draft.
Because of France’s opposition, the war began two days later, on 20
March 2003, without UN authorization. In the aftermath of the war cam-
paign, the French position remained the same: the war against Iraq was
neither legal (it did not conform to international law) nor legitimate (it
was based on shaky justifications).
Explaining the French opposition to the war against Iraq
The way in which the essentials of French foreign policy came together
with the specific issues at the centre of the Iraq crisis is crucial for ex-
plaining, and understanding, France’s opposition to the war against Iraq.
This exercise identifies four explanatory factors: the support given by
France to Iraq throughout the 1990s; the French vision of a multipolar
and multilateral world; the French view on the use of force in Iraq and
the Middle East; and France’s assessment of the threat represented by
Iraq and terrorism in general.
France’s support to Iraq
The French opposition to the war should not have come as a surprise
to the United States and the United Kingdom. It echoed what had been
the attitude of France vis-à-vis Iraq since the end of the first Gulf war.
Throughout the 1990s France was indeed quite supportive of Baghdad.
In particular, over time France moved to a position in favour of the eas-
ing, if not the lifting, of the UN sanctions against Iraq.19 This stood in
sharp contrast to the US and UK positions, which were eager to nail
Saddam Hussein’s regime as much as possible.
The relatively lenient French position towards Iraq in the aftermath
of the first Gulf war was principally fuelled by three considerations. First,
France was willing to give Saddam Hussein the benefit of the doubt. This
was in line with its longstanding support of his secular regime, which was
a continuation of the strong links that France had cultivated with Bagh-
dad since the 1970s, in part based on its somewhat republican nationalist
ideology.20 Second, there was the genuine belief that the UN sanctions
were hurting Iraqi civilians far more than was Saddam Hussein’s re-
gime.21 In this regard, Paris felt that, although the sanctions were crip-
pling Saddam Hussein’s efforts to rearm, there was no doubt that they
were also worsening the already very low standards of living of ordinary
Iraqis.22 A third consideration was French economic interests in Iraq.
These interests broke down into four elements: France’s oil dependency
on Iraq; the Oil-for-Food programme; oil concessions; and accumulated
debt. As we are about to see, these considerations were not as important
as is usually assumed.
French dependence on Iraqi oil, although significant, was far from be-
ing critical. In the early 2000s, France’s imports of oil came primarily from
Saudi Arabia (18.4 per cent), Norway (18.2 per cent), the United King-
dom (15.8 per cent), Iraq (8.9 per cent) and Iran (8.3 per cent).23 Thus,
although three of the five main providers of oil were Middle Eastern
countries – Saudi Arabia, Iraq and Iran – accounting for 35.6 per cent of
French oil imports, Iraq was only the fourth provider.
The contracts obtained by France through the UN Oil-for-Food pro-
gramme starting in the second half of the 1990s were another aspect
of French economic interests in Iraq.24 Certainly, oil-for-food contracts
went largely to France for a while. But in this area too the French inter-
ests should not be overstated. In 2001, France ranked eleventh in terms
of these contracts, behind Egypt, Jordan, Syria, the United Arab Emir-
ates, Turkey, Russia, China and India.25
The potentially lucrative oil concessions that would be granted to
French companies should sanctions be lifted were another reason for
France to want to proceed carefully with Saddam Hussein’s regime. A
final concern was the some US$5 billion debt accumulated by Baghdad
over the years.
Needless to say, the fact that the Bush administration did not say
what attitude it would adopt after the war on some of these issues
(for instance, whether or not the Iraqi debts would be honoured), and
whether or not France (and Russia) would be allowed to participate in
the reconstruction of Iraq, did not encourage Paris to share the US and
UK enthusiasm for war.
Iraq and France’s vision of a multipolar world
Contrary to what Robert Kagan seems to argue, France does not shy
away from the use of force when it deems it necessary.26 Nor does it hes-
itate to deploy troops abroad. In 2004, for example, more than 40,000
French troops were stationed outside of mainland France, including
15,000 deployed under a national, European, UN or international
mandate.27
Against this background, France did not entirely exclude, as a matter
of principle, war as an option in the context of the Iraqi crisis. But, short
of clear evidence of a threat, the US eagerness to launch a war against
Baghdad was bound to make Paris uncomfortable. It was at odds with
its favoured vision of a multipolar and multilateral world order in which
the United States, while having a pre-eminent role, would still be con-
strained by international rules.
As the crisis unfolded within the UN Security Council, China and Rus-
sia failed to take the lead in challenging the United States and the United
Kingdom, and France’s emergence as the only real counter-voice was very
much to its liking.28 It demonstrated France’s power of influence and also
allowed it to mount a defence and illustration of its multipolar and multi-
lateral vision of the world.
France and the use of force in Iraq and the Middle East
For France, the Middle East is a powder keg and one should tread with
caution in order to preserve the stability of the region. In addition, the
French view is that a cut and dried approach to the numerous problems
and challenges facing the Middle East is counterproductive. Moreover,
before the war, the French leadership continued to think that the central
issue in the region was not Iraq but the Israeli–Palestinian conflict.29
France was therefore deeply concerned about the prospect of using force
in Iraq.
The use of force did not seem the best way to address the problems on
the ground. In particular, French decision makers were highly sceptical
that a regime change imposed from the outside would lead to a stable re-
gime or that international security in the Middle East could be secured
by war. Although no one in France really mourned the prospect of the
fall of Saddam Hussein’s dictatorial regime, the French government
sensed that the Bush administration did not have a clear vision of what a
post-Saddam Iraq would look like. As a former colonial power that had
experienced failed attempts to govern countries from afar, France was
doubtful that the United States, or anyone else for that matter, could suc-
cessfully govern Iraq with a large occupation force.30 France feared also
that in the absence of such a military force, once war had taken place, a
quick handover of authority to a new implanted Iraqi regime could fail,
leading to internal conflicts over resources, ethnic and clan reprisals, if
not intervention by a number of Iraq’s neighbours. Post-invasion chaos
could then constitute a fertile ground for terrorists.
To a certain extent, the French government was worried as well by the
fact that an intervention in Iraq, particularly if it led to widespread Arab
civilian deaths, could have spillover effects in France. It could provoke
unrest among France’s 4–6 million strong Muslim population (nearly 10
per cent of the population) and be exploited by fundamentalists. France
did not want to give the Muslim world the impression that the ‘‘West’’ is
opposed to ‘‘Islam’’.31 It wanted to project an alternative vision of the
West to the Arab and Muslim populations in the Middle East but also in
Europe.
A different assessment of the threat posed by Iraq and terrorism
A final factor accounting for the French reluctance to go along with the
United States and the United Kingdom was that France simply did not
believe that Iraq and its alleged links with terrorism were much of
a threat, regionally or globally. By the winter of 2002–2003 France had
by and large come to the conclusion that the disarmament policies con-
ducted under the UN inspection regime during the 1990s had worked: the
Iraqi army had been reduced to about half its previous size; its conven-
tional weapons were out of date; its missiles had been used and not re-
placed; and most of its arsenal of mass destruction had been destroyed
by UN inspectors and various bombing campaigns.
In addition, it was clear to France that Saddam Hussein’s regime was
not popular. In the north of the country, the Kurds were in almost open
revolt; in the south, the Shiite majority had long resented its exclusion
from government. This made the Iraqi regime all the weaker internally
and not in a position to be a major danger externally.
Furthermore, the French government thought that the links that the
Bush administration claimed existed between al-Qaeda and Saddam’s re-
gime had no credibility. In this regard, the lack of evidence of terrorist
activities in Iraq or of links with transnational terrorist organizations
played into the hands of France’s rather relaxed conception of the terror-
ist threat.32 In France, as in other European countries, there was no sense
of paranoia about terrorism and its Middle Eastern (and Iraqi) origins.
Paris went along with the war against terrorism after the attacks of 11
September 2001; it was concerned about possible terrorist attacks; but it
did not give them primary importance.33
On all these issues, the position of the French government was ulti-
mately very much in tune with national public opinion.34
Evaluating the French position and the way forward

Was France right to oppose the war, and where does this position
leave France, and the international community, in the future? We end
this chapter by briefly offering some elements of an answer to these two
questions.
When words are not enough
France proved itself expert at opposing the United States. But, overall, it
is tempting to think that it failed to put forward a credible alternative to
the course of action recommended by the United States and the United
Kingdom vis-à-vis Iraq. It was all part of a pattern.
By the end of the 1990s and the early 2000s, it was clear that the sanc-
tions regime and the no-fly zones imposed on Iraq could not last forever.
Something had to be done. Moreover, the repressive nature of the re-
gime, Saddam Hussein’s propensity for aggressive behaviour internation-
ally and his unwillingness to change his ways made it rather inconceiv-
able to endorse the idea that he should remain in power. Yet, by simply
favouring the easing and lifting of UN sanctions, France could not help
but give the impression that it wanted to go back to ‘‘business as usual’’.
Later on, in the last months of 2002, the only reason the UN weapons
inspectors had been allowed back into Iraq had been the pressure exer-
cised by the United States at the UN headquarters and the fact that it
had positioned its troops outside Iraq’s borders. Rather disingenuously,
France did not really give credit to Washington for this. Choosing to fo-
cus on those aspects of the Bush foreign policy that it saw as unpalatable
and dangerous, France essentially limited itself to asking the United
States to restrain its aggressiveness.
Finally, had Saddam Hussein managed to have the UN inspections
drag on in 2003 with no decisive action taken by the international com-
munity (which was probably his intention), France was not in a position
to use force. It had made no preparation for the deployment of troops in
the event that the use of force became necessary. Not being able to act
rapidly, it would have had to rely on US power.
All this showed that, as the crisis unfolded and was approaching its
‘‘dénouement’’, France did not have a systematic alternative game plan
for Iraq, with all the possible options envisioned, covered and prepared
for. That was all the more unfortunate considering that, beyond opposing
the US and UK urge to attack, there was a desperate need for a convinc-
ing, workable and reconstruction-oriented ‘‘plan B’’ for Iraq – one that
would have triggered change in the country and the region while avoid-
ing the launching of a full-scale war.
In its own way, the Iraq crisis thus epitomized the French reticence
about change. For all its declared support for progressive values and calls
for a more just international system, France tends towards the status quo.
The main arena in which it can be considered a key promoter of change
is the European one. Along with Germany, France has indeed proved
to be a critical actor in the evolution of the European Union. It is at this
level that it has focused its attention and exercised much of its muscle.
But this is balanced by some reluctance to push forcefully for systemic
change in the global realm.
France now lacks the political clout to engineer and see through
sweeping changes in the international landscape that would be in line
both with its national interest and with its preferred vision of the world.
It is therefore inclined to stick to a conservative course (or to lean to-
wards modest if not piecemeal global change). In the European theatre,
this helps to explain why France was sceptical about the rapid disman-
tling of the Soviet Union and its European zones of influence, and about
German reunification, and why it did not favour the breakup of the Fed-
eral Republic of Yugoslavia or the enlargement of NATO.35
The way forward
The aftermath of the Iraq war has been a bit of a rollercoaster for
France. The more the situation in Iraq fulfilled the doomsayers’ predic-
tions, the more France’s calls for prudence about going to war were vin-
dicated. The more the situation seemed to unfold in line with the most
optimistic of US plans, the more France’s position was proven wrong.
After the United States had flatly rejected France’s recommendation
for strong involvement by the United Nations in the management of
post-conflict Iraq, France made a point of refusing any deployment of its
troops to help the Americans to contain the Iraqi insurgency. To be sure,
the relatively successful election of 30 January 2005 put the French gov-
ernment in an awkward situation. France was caught between grudging
acceptance of the poll and lingering indignation over how it came about.
But the continued inability of the United States to bring security to Iraq
and the proliferation of terrorist attacks are confirming the warnings ex-
pressed by France about the dangers of war.
The chances are that in the future the French attitude towards Iraq, the
Middle East and the United States will be that, while continuing to give
priority to solving the Israeli–Palestinian conflict by advocating Palesti-
nian rights, France will not oppose US efforts in Iraq in order to improve
the situation of the Iraqi people over time.36 Favouring the preservation
of the territorial integrity of Iraq and ensuring that its three main com-
munities – Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds – are able to live together is part of
this agenda. However, although France will support the United States, it
will do all it can to hamper US efforts to build a stronghold in Iraq and an
even stronger one in the region, with a view to providing a counter-
balance to the US approach to the Arab world and terrorism as well as
to defending its oil interests.
In the end, Paris will make efforts to bury past differences. Neverthe-
less, we have not seen the last of the tensions, distrust and suspicion be-
tween France and the United States over Iraq and the Middle East.37
Notes
1. See Lucien Poirier, La crise des fondements (Paris: Economica, 1994), Part I in
particular.
2. See, for example, Frédéric Bozo, La France et l’Alliance Atlantique depuis la fin de la
guerre froide. Le Modèle gaullien en question (1989–1999), Cahier No. 17 (Paris: Cahiers
du Centre d’Etudes d’Histoire de la Défense, 2001).
3. France’s commercial exchanges with the countries of the Middle East are quite marginal
compared with the overall volume of French trade.
4. France is not under any massive military threat from the Middle East.
5. Before the twentieth century, the balance of power (along with the quest for continental
hegemony) was one of the defining elements of French foreign policy.
6. See Thierry Tardy, ‘‘France and the US. The Inevitable Clash?’’, International Journal,
Vol. 59, No. 1 (Winter 2003–2004). Also, for a good explanation of what a multipolar
international order means to French foreign policy see ‘‘Un après-guerre sans guerre:
Nouvel ordre ou désordre internationale?’’, La France et le monde, AFRI – Annuaire
Français de relations internationales (Paris: Editions Bruylant, 2000).
7. Wherever and whenever its interests are at stake and its power permits, France does not
shy away from acting against UN principles. France’s poor track record in Africa is one
example among many of its foreign policy realism, and of the limits of its international-
ism and solidarism. The minor place assigned to human rights issues in French foreign
policy as a whole is another example.
8. Refer in particular to Article 5 of the Constitution, hhttp://www.conseil-constitutionel.fr/
textes/constit.htmi.
9. Rapport au Parlement sur les exportations d’armement de la France en 2002 et 2003, Min-
istry of Defence, Paris, 28 January 2005, hhttp://www.defense.gouv.fr/portal_repository/
817696033__0002/fichier/getData?_&ispopup=1i.
10. In the United States, recent examples of this phenomenon are General Colin Powell as
Secretary of State in the Bush administration and General Wesley Clark, former Su-
preme Allied Commander of NATO, running for President in the 2004 Democratic pri-
maries. In Russia, the key role of the army is linked to its communist past but has also
come to the foreground recently with the war in Chechnya. See, for instance, Dmitri V.
Trenin and Aleksei V. Malashenko, with Anatol Lieven, Russia’s Restless Frontier. The
Chechnya Factor in Post-Soviet Russia (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for In-
ternational Peace, 2004). For China, see David Shambaugh, Modernizing China’s Mili-
tary. Progress, Problems, and Prospects (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press,
2004), and Chinese Military Power. Report of an Independent Task Force (Washington,
DC: Council on Foreign Relations, 2003).
11. Opening speech by Dominique de Villepin at the 10th Conference of Ambassadors,
Paris, Centre des Conférences Internationales, 27 August 2002, hhttp://www.info-france-
usa.org/news/statmnts/2002/villepin82702.aspi. See also Dominique de Villepin, Toward
a New World (translated from French, Hoboken, NJ: Melville House Publishing, 2004).
12. See, for example, the press conference given by President Chirac on 20 October 2002,
on the occasion of the 9th Heads of State Francophone Summit in Beirut, hhttp://
www.elysee.fr/pres/iraq/ext201002b.htmi.
13. See the remarks of the French Permanent Representative to the United Nations, Jean-
David Levitte, following the adoption of Resolution 1441 on 8 November 2002 (UN
Doc. S/PV.4644, 8 November 2002, p. 5).
14. For an interesting analysis of the debates around the interpretation of Security Council
Resolution 1441, refer to Michael Byers, ‘‘Agreeing to Disagree: Security Council Res-
olution 1441 and Intentional Ambiguity’’, in Global Governance. A Review of Multilat-
eralism and International Organizations (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, in cooperation
with ACUNS and the United Nations University), Vol. 10, No. 2 (April–June 2004).
For more on the issues of drafting and interpreting UN Security Council resolutions in
the post–Cold War context, see Jean-Marc Coicaud, Beyond the National Interest
(Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, forthcoming 2006), Chapter 3.
15. Paragraph 13 of Resolution 1441 mentions only that ‘‘the Council has repeatedly
warned Iraq that it will face serious consequences as a result of its continued violations
of its obligations’’. See UN Security Council Resolution 1441, UN Doc. S/RES/1441
(2002), 8 November 2002.
16. Refer in particular to the statement of the US Permanent Representative to the United
Nations, John Negroponte, on 8 November 2002: ‘‘As we have said on numerous occa-
sions to Council members, this resolution contains no ‘hidden triggers’ and no ‘automa-
ticity’ with respect to the use of force. If there is a further Iraqi breach, reported to the
Council by UNMOVIC, the IAEA, or a Member State, the matter will return to the
Council for discussions as required in paragraph 12’’ (UN Doc. S/PV.4644, p. 3).
17. John Negroponte again: ‘‘The resolution makes clear that any Iraqi failure to comply is
unacceptable and that Iraq must be disarmed. And, one way or another, Iraq will be
disarmed. If the Security Council fails to act decisively in the event of further Iraqi vio-
lations, this resolution does not constrain any Member State from acting to defend itself
against the threat posed by Iraq or to enforce relevant United Nations resolutions and
protect world peace and security’’ (UN Doc. S/PV.4644, p. 3).
18. For the attitude of the Bush administration, see Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (New
York: Simon & Schuster, 2004), and Stefan Halper and Jonathan Clarke, America
Alone. The Neo-Conservatives and the Global Order (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2004), Chapter 4, for example. For the United Kingdom, refer to John Kampfner,
Blair’s Wars (London: Free Press, 2004).
19. On UN sanctions against Iraq in general, see for instance Meghan L. O’Sullivan, Iraq:
Time for a Modified Approach, Policy Brief No. 71 (Washington, DC: Brookings Insti-
tution, February 2001). For the French position on sanctions, refer for example to Les
propositions françaises pour l’Iraq, 25 August 1999, hhttp://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/
actual/dossiers/iraq/index.htmli, or Intervention publique du représentant permanent de
la France aux Nations Unies, New York, 26 June 2001, hhttp://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/
actual/dossiers/iraq2/iraq260601.htmli.
20. Dominique Moı̈si, ‘‘Iraq’’, in Richard N. Haass, Transatlantic Tension: The United
States, Europe, and Problem Countries (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press,
1999); Georges Corm, Le Proche-Orient éclaté – II. Mirages de paix et blocages identi-
taires 1990–1996 (Paris: Editions la Découverte, 1997), pp. 35 and 55, for example. See
also Jean-Pierre Chevènement, Le vert et le noir: Intégrisme, pétrole, dollars (Paris:
Grasset, 1995). On 29 January 1991, Jean-Pierre Chevènement, at the time minister of
national defence in the socialist government, offered his resignation to mark his opposi-
tion to the war against Iraq.
21. See, for example, the interview of the French minister of foreign affairs, Hubert Vé-
drine, with Al Hayat, 1 August 2000, hhttp://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/actual/dossiers/
iraq2/vedrinealhayat.htmli.
22. On the effect of sanctions on the humanitarian situation in Iraq, refer also to David
Rieff, ‘‘Were Sanctions Right?’’, New York Times, 27 July 2003.
23. These figures represented 1.9 million barrels per day of France’s approximately 2
million barrels per day consumption. See France Energy Profile, February 2002, hhttp://
www.sce.doc.gov/documents/market_briefs/energy/pdf/france.pdfi. See also Jacques
Beltran, ‘‘French Policy toward Iraq’’, US-France Analysis Series (Washington, DC:
Brookings Institution, September 2002).
24. For an analysis of the Oil-for-Food programme, see for instance Paul A. Volker,
Richard J. Goldstone and Mark Pieth, Independent Inquiry Committee. The United
Nations Oil-for-Food Programme, Interim Report, 3 February 2005, Part II, Chapter 2
in particular, hhttp://www.iic-offp.orgi.
25. Beltran, ‘‘French Policy toward Iraq’’.
26. Robert Kagan, ‘‘Power and Weakness’’, Policy Review, No. 113 (June 2002), hhttp://
www.policyreview.org/JUN02/kagan_print.htmli.
27. For further information, please refer to the website of the French defence ministry,
hhttp://www.defense.gouv.fr/emai. The actions of French troops in Côte d’Ivoire also
made the headlines in 2004.
28. Lilia Shevtsova is misled when she argues in Putin’s Russia (Washington, DC: Carnegie
Endowment for International Peace, 2003, p. 265): ‘‘I believe that Moscow – and not
Paris, as many felt – played the determining role in deepening the schism in NATO by
its choice in early 2003. I am convinced that if Putin have behaved like the Chinese lead-
ers on the Iraq question – that is, taking a wait-and-see position – Jacques Chirac would
not have been so active in his opposition’’.
29. France has been a long-time advocate of the existence of a Palestinian state alongside
the Israeli state.
30. Gilles Kepel, The War for Muslim Minds: Islam and the West (Cambridge, MA: Belknap
Press of Harvard University Press, 2004).
31. Stanley Hoffmann, ‘‘Out of Iraq’’, New York Review of Books, 21 October 2004.
32. There are four reasons for this. First, France does not see itself as particularly targeted.
Second, France’s foreign policy is not about trying to achieve absolute security against
external threats, because France does not think that absolute security (the total absence
of external threats) is either achievable or something to wish for. This attitude could be
called ‘‘insecurity tolerance’’. Third, France does not believe that a foreign policy of
military intervention is essential to ending terrorism. It is more inclined to think that
the answer is to address the root causes of terrorism. Fourth, France is wary of giving
the Arab masses the impression that the West is adopting policies of force. In its view,
such policies are likely further to fuel their sense of historical humiliation. Moreover,
the fact that Arab populations resent most of their local political leaders does not
mean that they are eager to embrace foreign troops.
33. See, for example, Stephen F. Szabo, Parting Ways. The Crisis in German–American Re-
lations (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2004), pp. 67–74. For more infor-
mation on the French perspective see Marc Perelman, ‘‘How the French Fight Terror’’,
Foreign Policy, Web Exclusive, posted January 2006, hwww.foreignpolicy.com/story/
cms.php?story_id=3353i.
34. ‘‘La Guerre en Irak inquiète les Français’’, poll conducted by Ipsos for Le Monde and
TF1 on 28 and 29 March 2003 among a representative sample of 948 people, hhttp://
www.ipsos.fr/CanalIpsos/articles/1095.aspi.
35. Bozo, La France et l’Alliance Atlantique depuis la fin de la guerre froide. See also French
Negotiating Style, Special Report 70 (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace,
26 April 2001). Among other reasons for France’s difficulty in being an engine of sys-
temic change at the global level are a lack of a drive to act, of discipline and, perhaps
paradoxically, of expertise (policy and academic) on a number of global issues.
36. On 22 February 2005, on the occasion of President Bush’s visit to Brussels, it was an-
nounced that all 26 NATO countries would support the training of security forces in
post-war Iraq, with France contributing one officer to help coordination at NATO’s mil-
itary headquarters in southern Belgium. In addition, France separately offered to train
1,500 Iraqi military police in Qatar and play a lead role in European Union efforts to
train Iraqi judicial officials. ‘‘Bush Praises Modest Pledge from NATO on Training Iraqi
Forces’’, New York Times, 22 February 2005.
37. See letter to the editor by Jean-David Levitte, France’s ambassador to the United
States, in the Wall Street Journal, following an editorial in the same newspaper (‘‘Multi-
lateralism à la française’’, Eastern Edition, 14 October 2005) dwelling on the placing
under formal investigation in Paris in October 2005 of Jean-Bernard Mérimée, a former
French ambassador to the United Nations, as part of a corruption enquiry into the
UN-run Oil-for-Food programme in Iraq (‘‘France Deservedly Proud of Its Decision
on Iraq’’, 17 October 2005).
15
A Russian perspective
Ekaterina Stepanova
Russia’s perspective on the Iraq crisis and its implications has to be put
into the broader post–Cold War context. Since the end of the Cold War,
perhaps no other major state had undergone changes as deep and profound
as those experienced, both internally and externally, by post-Soviet Rus-
sia, which itself is partly a product of the end of the Cold War. Although
this adaptation was painful, by the turn of the century Russia had by and
large adjusted to its reduced global role and influence. It increasingly as-
sumed what appeared to be its more natural role of a major Eurasian re-
gional power, enjoying unique geopolitical and geo-economic conditions,
concentrating on domestic development and modernization and acting as
a predictable and international law-abiding partner in world affairs.
For much of the 1990s, though, Russia’s international security agenda
was overwhelmed by the need to manage the consequences of the col-
lapse of the Soviet Union and to limit at least some of the damage caused
by the West’s consolidation of post–Cold War security gains, such as the
eastward expansion of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO).
It was not until the late 1990s that any coherent Russian foreign policy
extending beyond post–Cold War ‘‘damage limitation’’ could be identi-
fied at all. For Russia, the completion of its own external adaptation
meant the end of the period of post–Cold War damage limitation on its
own side – something that, in Moscow’s view, was not yet paralleled by
adequate changes in the security perceptions, threat assessment, policy
priorities and behaviour of its Western counterparts, as demonstrated by
the 1999 NATO war against Yugoslavia.
249
250 EKATERINA STEPANOVA
Against this background, much as the 1991 war in the Gulf marked in-
ternational changes associated with the end of the Cold War, the new
US-led intervention in Iraq and its implications were viewed in Russia
as one of the two major international developments (the other being the
war on terrorism in the wake of the attacks of 11 September 2001) that
formally concluded the post–Cold War era. For that reason alone, the
2003 Iraq crisis was bound to be seen as a landmark development by
Russia, even if the extent of its broader transformative effect on the state
of the ‘‘world order’’ remained questionable.
Indeed, the crisis in Iraq that was aggravated by the United States’
direct military intervention in that country hardly led to any radical trans-
formation of the international system, particularly in the sense of herald-
ing the emergence of a ‘‘new world order’’. First of all, in the post-bipolar
world, the international system may generally fail to meet the strict stan-
dards of a structured ‘‘order’’ similar to that associated with the Cold
War era, and seems more likely to remain less structured and more sus-
ceptible to tension for a significant period of time. Secondly, although the
crisis in Iraq had its own logic and a post–Cold War history of more than
a decade, the US intervention in Iraq cannot be taken out of the broader
post-9/11 context, particularly the global ‘‘war on terrorism’’.
The effect of the ‘‘war on terrorism’’ on world politics is not necessarily
one of radical change either – rather, it can be more accurately described
as a pendulum that further radicalized and accelerated some of the con-
flicting trends in international politics that were already in place. First,
the rapid and unhindered US intervention in Afghanistan following the
9/11 attacks encouraged the George W. Bush administration to go to ex-
tremes in its unilateralist approach, and this later helped pave the way for
its unconstrained intervention in Iraq. But the very same excesses of US
unilateralism in turn provoked a swing in the other direction and acceler-
ated a second major trend in world politics. The war in Iraq stimulated an
unprecedented backlash worldwide (unparalleled in the post–Cold War
years) and, rather than setting the dominant ‘‘Concert of Powers’’1
against the rest of the world, it polarized key members of the Concert
on the unilateralism/multilateralism dilemma. Whereas the US-led inter-
vention in Iraq served as the peak of the United States’ ‘‘unipolar mo-
ment’’, sharp international disagreements over the war, the UN refusal
to mandate it, and the mounting difficulties of occupation and post-war
conflict management have all pointed in the opposite direction and chal-
lenged US unilateralism. There might have been few doubts about the
US ability to win the war – almost any war – unilaterally, but the continu-
ing crisis in Iraq most vividly demonstrates its inability to ‘‘win the peace’’
unilaterally and even the possibility of losing the peace altogether.
Although the Iraq crisis proved to be a serious test for US global secu-
A RUSSIAN PERSPECTIVE 251
rity dominance, it is not yet clear whether the world’s reaction to the US-
led intervention and the coalition’s failure to ‘‘win the peace’’ in post-war
Iraq mean the beginning of the end of the United States’ ‘‘unipolar mo-
ment’’ or simply drew its objective limits. The answer to that question
goes to the heart of the unilateralism/multilateralism dilemma.
On the multilateralism side, in the context of the Iraq crisis the long-
standing debate on the role of the United Nations in general and of the
UN Security Council in particular acquired a new urgency and an almost
metaphysical nature. The handling of the crisis aroused an exceptional
level of pessimism, both outside and within the United Nations, and was
seen by many as a failure of the UN system to solve the crisis by peaceful
means, to reach an agreement among the key members of the Security
Council in order to prevent the war and, ultimately, to stop the aggres-
sion. The very relevance of the United Nations in its current form had
never been so seriously questioned. But the opposite view could also be
argued for – namely, that the United Nations did in fact pass one of the
most crucial tests in its history and that the UN system, and the Security
Council in particular, did work in the sense that they did not approve an
aggression and managed not to become associated with it, despite the po-
sition of two of the permanent members of the Council.
It need hardly be mentioned that the war against Iraq was seriously
questioned on various grounds by much of the rest of the world outside
the United States. The US-led intervention in Iraq drew objective limits
to the ‘‘flexibility’’ of international law – limits that, if crossed, could even
play against the sole remaining superpower. The main point of resent-
ment was best summarized by Hans Blix, the UN chief weapons inspec-
tor, who stressed that even direct violations of the UN Security Council
resolutions by Iraq did not provide sufficient grounds to legitimize the
use of military force against that state.2 However, just continuing to
stress the illegal nature of the US-led intervention in Iraq scarcely adds
anything new to the debate. Rather, it might be more productive to focus
on how the crisis in Iraq could be managed in the realities of the present
international system and on what the war and its aftermath tell us about
the character and potential evolution of this system. This chapter will
present Russia’s perspective on these issues.
General framework for Russia’s policy on Iraq

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, Moscow’s approach to the Iraq crisis
provided signs of a growing normalization of Russian foreign policy and
reflected Russia’s new role and place in the international system. There
was nothing unique, for instance, about Russia’s preference for solving
the crisis by peaceful means and its strong opposition to US intervention

in Iraq, which was undertaken without a UN Security Council mandate –
a position that in many ways mirrored that of France and Germany. Hav-
ing completed its external adjustment, the new Russia was no less inter-
ested in long-term cooperation with the United States than were the
United States’ major European partners and it acknowledged that the
United States had certain unique global responsibilities as the world’s
leading power. At the same time, Russia contested any ‘‘excessive’’
global role and regional involvement for the United States, particularly
in areas of special economic and/or political interest to itself. Although
Russia joined its European partners France and Germany to form a po-
litical UN-centred ‘‘axis of peace’’ in the rift with the US–UK ‘‘axis of
war’’, its reaction to the US intervention in Iraq remained reserved and
far from hysterical (in some contrast to its reaction to the NATO war
against Yugoslavia) and was driven less by anti-Americanism than by
the need to bring the process back to the United Nations and the interna-
tional legal context and to preserve the viability of the United Nations.
Prior to the US intervention in Iraq, the urgent need to adjust the in-
ternational system to the realities of the twenty-first century had not only
stimulated various proposals for UN reform, but also appeared to be
at least partly met by supplementing the role of the United Nations with
that of regional institutions as well as broader and less formal, but no less
critical, arrangements such as the G-8. The United States’ handling of the
Iraq crisis, which bypassed both formal institutions (the United Nations
at the global level, as well as regional security organizations) and infor-
mal international political mechanisms (G-8), proved to be not only ille-
gal and illegitimate3 but also inadequately reflective of the new global
balance of powers, mistaking it for the United States’ unchallenged ‘‘uni-
polar’’ moment. It also gave a new momentum to the ‘‘limited sover-
eignty’’ trend in post–Cold War global politics that emerged in the con-
text of the humanitarian interventions of the 1990s. Russia had its own
reservations about ‘‘limited sovereignty’’ as the new emerging principle
of international affairs because it was bound to be applied mainly by the
dominant Concert of Powers to weaker and more vulnerable states, such
as the former Yugoslavia. In Moscow it was implied that, by granting the
right to violate sovereignty for such benign purposes as humanitarian as-
sistance and human rights protection, the international community de
facto creates more favourable conditions for future violations of state
sovereignty, particularly by the most powerful states, for much less be-
nign reasons. In Russia’s eyes, the illegal intervention by the United
States in Iraq, driven by highly controversial motivations of self-interest,
fully confirmed and reinforced these concerns. Moreover, such blatant vi-
olations of state sovereignty as this seriously compromised the idea of in-
tervening in a state’s internal affairs, even for allegedly benign purposes

(for example, the idea of humanitarian intervention).
Both the US refusal to act within the existing international framework
and the powerful blow to the concept of sovereignty dealt by the US in-
tervention in Iraq pointed in the direction of change in the international
system, which, given Russia’s relative weakness, could be pursued only at
the expense of its own national interests. In this context, preserving at
least a minimum level of integrity and viability of the United Nations as
the world’s chief multilateral institution for managing international crises
became for Moscow an interest in its own right to be pursued vis-à-vis the
situation in Iraq. This explains why the UN system, and the Security
Council in particular, remained Russia’s natural framework of choice in
dealing with Iraq and why the Security Council decisions became the
minimum common denominator for all Russian policy discussions on
Iraq and for all policy scenarios to be considered by Moscow.
More generally, Russia’s strong preference for a multilateralist
approach to Iraq was a logical progression and an integral part of its
newly acquired role as a large regional power, strong enough to defend
its sovereignty (owing to the remnants of its global past, such as its nu-
clear potential) but unable to exercise major influence on global politics
or even to push forward its interests if challenged by the dominant con-
cert of more powerful states. Russia’s bilateral policy towards the United
States at the time of the crisis and in its aftermath fully reflected these
realities and was elegantly termed by Russian foreign policy experts a
‘‘responsible partnership’’ strategy.4 This implied that Russia, acting as a
partner of the United States, rather than a client or satellite, took respon-
sibility for disagreeing with the use of force against Iraq in view of its
adverse implications for the United States’ own security and for global
security. The same approach dominated Russia’s behaviour in the UN
Security Council: it was more important for Russia to warn the United
States that it could use its veto power on Iraq (as Russian Foreign Minis-
ter Ivanov warned on 26 February 2003 in China) than actually to use
that power.
In sum, Russia’s foreign policy in general and on Iraq in particular had
two dimensions or levels. The essence of the first dimension is that, at the
level of the world order, the Iraq problem served for Russia as an indica-
tor of the normative and structural changes in the international system,
particularly through the prism of the US unilateralism – UN multilateral-
ism dilemma. Although, internationally, Russia had some voice at this
level as a permanent member of the Security Council, there was no way
it could push forward its position if challenged by the dominant concert,
as demonstrated by Russia’s policy on Iraq throughout the 1990s. Russia
could hope to make an impact on the decision-making process only if it
acted in concert with at least some of the key members of the dominant
Concert of Powers (for example, coordinating its position on the US in-
tervention in Iraq with France at the Security Council).
Although UN-centred multilateralism remained the underlying frame-
work that dominated Russia’s public attitudes and foreign policy dis-
course, it could hardly explain all the nuances of Russia’s practical policy
and behaviour, in Iraq and elsewhere. This policy was increasingly shaped
by the second, more practical dimension – the combination and interplay
of at least two pragmatic trends. The first trend was the growing role of
geo-economics in Russia’s foreign policy. This trend has been further re-
inforced during President Putin’s second term (2004–2008), with an even
greater emphasis put on the ‘‘oil and gas factor’’ and on diplomatic sup-
port for the transnational projects of Russia’s major corporations. The
second trend was the emergence of Russia’s new security agenda, with
its focus shifting from the West to the South as the main source of poten-
tial threats and in particular with its new emphasis on anti-terrorism.
A certain gap between the normative and structural dimension of Rus-
sia’s foreign policy, dominated by UN-centred multilateralism, and its
more pragmatic interests and concerns did not necessarily mean, though,
that they could not be congruent and even mutually reinforcing.
Russia’s policy scenarios on post-war Iraq: Accommodation

or non-association?
For those powers opposed to the US intervention, including Russia, there

seemed to be two mainstream policy options or scenarios regarding the
situation in post-war Iraq. Each had its own advantages and limitations.
The accommodation scenario implied cooperation with the US-led co-
alition, particularly on economic issues, and moderate concessions on the
part of the occupying powers in the distribution of the Iraqi ‘‘oil pie’’ and
in the role of the United Nations in post-war Iraq, in exchange for post
factum de facto recognition of the US protectorate in post-war Iraq. The
non-association (keeping-the-distance) scenario implied the need to follow
the situation closely and to ‘‘wait and see’’ if, with time, the United States
would become increasingly mired in its attempts to install a proxy regime
in Iraq and to counter the mounting resistance movement and would be-
come more willing to involve the broader international community in the
‘‘consequences management’’ process in Iraq, on UN terms and within
the UN framework. One clear sign of the growing normalization of Rus-
sia’s foreign policy had been that none of the more ‘‘extreme’’ scenarios
– full acquiescence in the US pressure or, conversely, confrontation with
the United States over Iraq – had been seen as an option to be seriously
considered.5
At first, after the rapid US military victory and the demise of Saddam’s
regime in Iraq, a modification of the ‘‘accommodation’’ scenario appeared
to emerge as a policy option for Russia. This scenario promised accom-
modation of at least some Russian economic interests in Iraq and thus
appeared to be in line with the general primacy of geo-economics in Rus-
sia’s foreign policy. Needless to say, Russia’s economic interests in Iraq
(under the Saddam government, contracts had been signed by more than
200 Russian firms,6 including lucrative oil projects,7 and repayment of
Iraq’s debt to Russia) were damaged by the war and occupation. The
economic benefits of the lifting of sanctions, which could have improved
the prospects of repayment of Iraq’s debt to Russia, were completely
overshadowed by the terms of the post-war economic game, which
strongly favoured the coalition powers. Trade and market liberalization
measures imposed on an economy weakened by a decade of sanctions,
as well as putting the US-contracted firms in charge of reconstruction
and depriving the Interim Government of Iraq of the right to cancel con-
tracts negotiated by the coalition administration, facilitated US control of
Iraqi national assets and, at best, left key foreign competitors a marginal
economic role to play.
Russia hoped to limit the damage to its economic interests in Iraq by
participating in some form in post-war reconstruction, oil exploitation
and production, and so on. In return, Russia could offer little but accom-
modation of at least some of the United States’ demands and concerns,
particularly within the framework of the UN Security Council, such as a
commitment not to contest the US leadership of a multinational security
force to be mandated by the Council. Even then, Russian companies
could hope to play only a marginal role in post-war Iraq. Although some
of the secondary projects (reconstruction of electricity power stations,
training Iraqi oil production experts, etc.) survived, LUKOIL’s efforts to
reactivate its US$3.7 billion project to develop one of the world’s largest
oil fields (Western Qurna-2) had little chance of succeeding8 if they were
not supported by the United States. In the circumstances, it appeared
that one of the few available options for Russian business was to operate
through structures affiliated with Western companies.
However, the pace of reconstruction was delayed by destabilization
and the deteriorating security conditions in Iraq, which caused the main
foreign critics of US policy, including Russia, to shift towards the ‘‘non-
association’’ scenario. This scenario was not in conflict with Russia’s
geo-economic interests either. Russia is second only to Saudi Arabia as
a crude oil producer, with daily production of 8.4 million barrels, and oil
and gas account for 30 per cent of its overall exports. At that point, when
the long-term nature of the rise in world oil prices was not yet clear, it
was believed in Russia that, with sanctions lifted, reconstruction and
modernization of the Iraqi oil sector would help bring world oil prices
down.9 This, in turn, could weaken the main basis of Russia’s short-term
economic stabilization and the Russian government’s ambitious economic
growth plans.
In fact, it was the deteriorating security situation in post-war Iraq that
replaced sanctions as the factor limiting the flow of Iraqi oil to interna-
tional markets and contributing to high world oil prices. Thus, the
broader economic implications of the situation in Iraq might not have
been that dramatic, at least for Russia’s oil export sector, and some of
Russia’s economic losses in Iraq could be compensated for by overall fi-
nancial gains from high oil prices. In the longer term, damage to Russian
economic interests in Iraq could also be partly mitigated by granting Rus-
sian oil companies permanent access to the US oil market. More gener-
ally, it should be noted, though, that Russia’s excessive dependence on
oil exports has extremely mixed implications and ‘‘what is good for LUK-
OIL’’ is not necessarily a priori ‘‘good’’ for the long-term modernization
and development needs of the Russian economy, state and society.
Nevertheless, in purely pragmatic geo-economic terms, both political
scenarios under consideration appeared to be equally acceptable to
Russia. Moreover, Russia’s limited political role and influence gave it
the advantage of having to make relatively low-risk choices. This partly
explains why Russia could never become the main driving force behind
a push for one or the other scenario and tried instead to achieve limited
political and economic goals, preferably by others’ hands. All this dem-
onstrated the extent to which Russia’s policy towards post-war Iraq was
circumstantial, reactive to developments on the ground, and permeated
by a ‘‘wait and see’’ attitude: US success in post-Saddam Iraq would
make Russia far more willing to close its eyes to the nature of the occu-
pation regime, whereas a US quagmire would increase the incentives to
follow the ‘‘non-association’’ scenario.
Another example of Russia’s flexible ‘‘wait and see’’ attitude (which
also characterized the policy on Iraq of many other external actors) was
its position on the post-war interim political governance arrangements in
Iraq. Although Moscow always insisted on the need to restore Iraqi sov-
ereignty as soon as possible, its position on the US-sponsored ‘‘proxy’’
Iraqi Governing Council shifted from initial scepticism (up until the end
of 2003) to ‘‘conditional’’ support from early 2004. After the radical
Shiite insurgency against the coalition in April 2004, Russia intensified
its calls for an international conference on Iraq, with the participation of
all local political forces, including the ‘‘forces of resistance’’, representa-
tives of the neighbouring states and the UN Security Council, to be con-

vened as soon as possible (the idea was repeatedly dismissed by the
United States).
Certainly, it would be an exaggeration to suggest that Russia’s policy
on Iraq was driven only by pragmatic concerns and was not guided by
any broader strategic vision whatsoever. Rather, my point is to highlight
a certain gap between Russia’s broader ‘‘global order’’ concerns and its
practical policy of pursuing more pragmatic, often purely economic, in-
terests. By late 2004, the ‘‘accommodation’’ and ‘‘non-association’’ sce-
narios seemed to be reconciled in the form of a compromise policy,
allowing accommodation of Russia’s economic interests, while keeping
a political distance from the coalition.
Politically, Russia’s position on the nature of political governance in
Iraq gradually became more substantive, with Russian officials stressing
the fallacy of attempts to build the new state on the basis of ethnic and
confessional principles.10 Later, Russia even openly called for ‘‘a signifi-
cant part of the armed Iraqi resistance to be brought into the process of
creating a state’’, as well as for a timetable for the withdrawal of foreign
forces from Iraq (as stated by President Putin in August 2005),11 and in
June 2005 Russian representatives established direct contact with one of
the key Shiite opposition leaders, Moqtada al-Sadr.
Economically, in contrast, the Russian government took several ac-
commodating steps towards the coalition powers, particularly the United
States. Among other things, it agreed to sell part of its ‘‘strategic’’ asset
LUKOIL to an affiliate of the fourth-largest US oil company, Conoco-
Phillips.12 This decision was apparently intended to regain access to at
least some of the Russian contracts in Iraq, allowing LUKOIL and Con-
ocoPhillips to start joint negotiations with the Interim Government of
Iraq to unfreeze LUKOIL oil contracts in Western Qurna.13 The deal
might also have involved or at least was timed with Russia’s promise to
write off a substantial portion of Iraq’s debt. In October 2004, Moscow
confirmed to the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank that
it was ready to support the French initiative to cut Iraq’s debt by half,14
and, in November, Russia joined the United States, Japan, European na-
tions and other Paris Club donors in announcing that they would write off
80 per cent, or more than US$31 billion (@23.9 billion), of the debts Iraq
owed them.15
In the end, Russia chose to follow a compromise scenario, aimed at se-
curing at least some of its economic interests in relation to Iraq while
avoiding any close or direct political association with the US policy on
Iraq. This scenario was also in line with Russia’s broader global vision
based on the concept of multilateralism, which was still most fully, al-
though imperfectly, embodied in the UN system. The war in Iraq and its
consequences demonstrated Moscow’s growing pragmatism, but also

served as a litmus test of the limits of Russia’s flexibility and highlighted
Russia’s non-negotiable ‘‘sacred cows’’. Even US success in post-conflict
peacebuilding in Iraq would not have led Russia to stop criticizing, let
alone to approve, the illegal military intervention. Any association with
the United States’ political role and military presence in Iraq would
have involved serious political, legal and moral dilemmas for the Russian
leadership and could have been interpreted, both internationally and,
perhaps more importantly, domestically, as acquiescence in US pressure.
Political non-association with the United States on Iraq was a popular
public policy to follow in Russia, where the pro-Iraq and pro-UN
approach enjoyed broad public support. According to a poll conducted
in February 2004, most Russians viewed the war negatively as an aggres-
sion against the Iraqi people (62 per cent referred to it as ‘‘a crime
against the Iraqi people’’; 23 per cent, while supporting the need to get
rid of Saddam Hussein, strongly disagreed with the methods used by the
United States to achieve this goal; and only 4 per cent supported the US
intervention); 69 per cent of respondents were confident that the United
States would completely fail in Iraq. According to a September 2003 poll,
most respondents thought that the main goal of the US intervention had
been the need to control world oil prices (52 per cent) and the Persian
Gulf region (27 per cent); far fewer people supported the view that the
primary goal was the fight against international terrorism (12 per cent)
and the search for WMD (10 per cent).16
In sum, the broader UN-centred multilateralist dimension does make a
difference and can play a role in and even direct Russia’s policy, particu-
larly when the policy options dictated by more pragmatic interests in-
volve similar or comparable gains and/or losses, as in the case of Russia’s
policy options vis-à-vis post-Saddam Iraq.
Iraq and the ‘‘war on terrorism’’: A view from Russia
For Russia, one of the most problematic aspects of the US intervention in

Iraq (apart from concerns about the negative implications for the role of
the United Nations) was its potential to deal a serious blow to the ‘‘inter-
national coalition against terror’’ and to stimulate a new upsurge of inter-
national terrorism. The most intriguing connection to be explored in this
context is that between the war on terrorism and the crisis in Iraq.
Whereas, prior to the US intervention, this connection had remained a
virtual product of US official propaganda, it started to materialize in
post-war Iraq.
One of the reasons Russia opposed the US intervention in Iraq in the
first place was that it threatened to be counterproductive to anti-terrorist

priorities and to provoke more terrorism, rather than lessen it. By turning
a rogue state into a failed state, the United States replaced a rigid author-
itarian secular nationalist regime that had harshly suppressed any form
and manifestation of Islamist extremism with a weak proxy state that
was fully dependent on the security support of the foreign forces, whose
continuing presence on Iraqi soil remained the main factor stimulating
the rise of terrorism in post-war Iraq and the Islamization of the resis-
tance. The US presence in Iraq also strengthened the motivation of
forces that were ready to employ terrorist means in the global fight
against the United States and its allies and thus reinforced the war on ter-
rorism and gave it a new self-created rationale.
Terrorism generated by the conflict in Iraq accounted for only part of
the resistance activities (which also involved guerrilla attacks against co-
alition military targets) and the US intervention and post-war presence in
Iraq initially stimulated mainly the import, rather than the export, of
terrorism. But, as the conflict became protracted, terrorism increasingly
served as a self-perpetuating mechanism for the re-escalation of violence,
and the use of terrorist means by Iraqi groups appeared to become in-
creasingly intertwined with transnational terrorist networks’ activities.
The prospect of Iraq becoming a major rallying point for terrorists has
been of deep concern to Russia, in terms of the country’s broader secu-
rity agenda as well as its anti-terrorism strategy and experience. For a de-
cade, Russia was confronted with the challenge of terrorism generated by
an armed conflict on its own territory and expressed growing concerns
about terrorist threats to its neighbours in the Commonwealth of Inde-
pendent States, particularly the Central Asian states. In this context,
Moscow was alarmed that Iraq might become a hotbed of Islamist terror-
ism, located not far from Russia’s own southern borders and emerging as
a new potential trigger that could at any time reactivate the ‘‘southern
arc of instability’’. Moscow was also worried about the damage dealt by
the US intervention in Iraq to the integrity of the ‘‘coalition against ter-
ror’’ and to the new momentum of the post-9/11 cooperation between the
United States and Russia on anti-terrorism, which was highly valued by
Moscow (most obviously by providing a more favourable international
context for its own operations in the North Caucasus). A combination of
anti-terrorism priorities and broader security and political concerns pro-
vided an additional argument for Russia to support efforts to build a
functioning and legitimate Iraqi state (as the most effective long-term
anti-terrorist strategy for a semi-failed state), but also made Moscow
more willing to accept the reality of the US-dominated security presence
in Iraq.
The problem of terrorism generated by the US-led intervention in and
occupation of Iraq was likely to become long term, and there was a grow-
ing need to think about potential ways of combining anti-terrorism with
post-war reconstruction that might be utilized in future attempts to find
a way out of the continuing Iraqi crisis. Russia’s own hard and often
flawed experience with anti-terrorism, particularly in dealing with a com-
plex mix of domestic, conflict-generated resistance and international in-
fluences and connections, could provide some operational and strategic
lessons for coping with terrorism in post-war Iraq.
As demonstrated by Russia’s own experience of combining counter-
insurgency and counter-terrorist operations, in a shaky post-war environ-
ment that might easily degenerate into a full-scale armed conflict, the
range of the threats and of the security measures that need to be
undertaken to meet these threats always goes beyond the terrorism/
anti-terrorism dichotomy. From fighting an asymmetric war on its own
territory, Russia knew the difficulty of reconciling tasks that are more
specifically focused on and tailored to counter-terrorism needs (intelli-
gence collection and analysis, carefully targeted and highly selective spe-
cial and covert operations aimed, first and foremost, at the prevention and
pre-emptive disruption of terrorist activities and networks) with more
regular enforcement and policing measures, let alone with military/
counter-insurgency operations emphasizing coercion and post hoc retali-
ation, often in the form of ‘‘collective punishment’’.
Because the US-led occupation of Iraq was to a large extent handled as
a military affair, with elements of a massive counter-insurgency cam-
paign, many, if not most, of the problems it raised, the operational tasks
it posed and the methods that were employed (including high-altitude
bombing of certain areas and long-range missile strikes, on the one hand,
and massive ‘‘cordon and search’’ actions on the ground, on the other
hand) had little to do with counter-terrorism in a more narrow sense. Co-
ercive measures in general and ‘‘collective impact’’ measures in particular
(such as closures and mopping-up zachistka-style operations, which have
been increasingly employed by the US forces in Iraq) hardly serve and
may even interfere with counter-terrorist goals when they are used as es-
sentially punitive or retaliatory measures or as a substitute for other se-
curity activities, rather than as a highly selective tool, employed for a pre-
defined period of time, in a limited area, based on very solid intelligence
and for specific operational purposes.
There is little doubt that conflict-generated terrorism cannot be suc-
cessfully countered at just the operational level. More fundamentally, the
most effective long-term anti-terrorism strategy would appear to be re-
storing and strengthening state control or, in failed states, (re)building
national state institutions and authority.17 Russia’s own experience with
the process of building a functioning local administration in a chaotic

war-torn area demonstrates that it involves many dilemmas, such as
that between the more rigid security-oriented approach to institution-
building, focused on centralization of power, strict hierarchies and formal
institutional mechanisms, or a more flexible approach that might involve
more informal and less centralized political arrangements. Other crucial
dilemmas include the constant trade-off between the functionality and
legitimacy of the administrative authority and an uneasy compromise
among various institution-building agendas, which are often in conflict.
In this sense, post-Saddam Iraq is no exception. The threat of terrorism
generated by the situation in Iraq cannot be written off until post-war
Iraq fully overcomes regime collapse and ceases to be an externally im-
posed embryonic state, dependent on the presence of foreign forces for
its security and lacking both functionality and legitimacy. In other words,
the key to preventing Iraq from becoming a major source of international
terrorism and extremism lies in the formation of functioning state institu-
tions that enjoy not only formal UN recognition but also sufficient public
legitimacy among the core political and regional ethno-confessional con-
stituencies. Such a state is unlikely to emerge, let alone become consoli-
dated, in the context of the United States’ ‘‘divide and rule’’ policy, which
implies a primary reliance on the relatively moderate Shiite political/
religious forces and the Kurds, while alienating the Sunnis and the more
radical Shiites and extending the coalition presence in Iraq indefinitely.
If any ‘‘post-post–Cold War’’ world order is on the horizon, its security

contours are likely to be shaped by the dialectical interaction of two
trends in international politics that both highlight the changing nature of
global security threats but may point in different, if not entirely opposite,
directions.
The first trend, most vividly exemplified by the situation in post-war
Iraq, is represented by the growing demand for national, international
and subnational actors capable of ‘‘winning the peace’’, in contrast to
those best suited to the more traditional business of ‘‘winning the war’’.
The crisis in Iraq has not merely defined the objective limits of US unilat-
eralism but, perhaps more importantly, demonstrated the apparent fail-
ure of unprecedented military might unconstrained by international legal
norms and of technological and economic superiority to achieve a just
and durable peace after the war – a challenge no less ambitious and com-
plex than, for instance, effectively countering international terrorism. The
much-needed capacity to ‘‘win the peace’’ can be provided only by a
combination of substantial economic resources and a spotless interna-
tional reputation, including full respect for the basic tenets of interna-
tional law (which does not preclude the further development and im-
provement of the existing international legal system). It is this capacity
that may increasingly determine the ranking and clout of a particular
state or an international organization in global politics.
The second trend manifested itself, above all, in the post-9/11 war on
terrorism. Although this global campaign launched and led by the United
States was based on a broad international consensus about the gravity of
the new mega-threat to international security, it also reaffirmed the cen-
tral role of the United States in the world system. Moreover, the exces-
sive reliance on enforcement in general and on military force in partic-
ular appeared to be seen by the US leadership as the key to successfully
winning the war against terrorism. Among other things, this trend was
revealed in the way Iraq became forcibly intertwined with the war on
terrorism as a direct consequence of the US-led intervention and occupa-
tion. That link is highly controversial. The dismantling of Saddam Hus-
sein’s ‘‘rogue’’ regime might have had a certain demonstration effect on
other ‘‘rogue states’’, but on most other counts it appeared irrelevant, if
not damaging, to anti-terrorism priorities. As demonstrated by the situa-
tion in post-war Iraq, turning rogue states into failed states leads to more
rather than to less terrorism. Moreover, an upsurge in terrorist activity
generated by the conflict in Iraq had every chance to be employed as an
additional rationale for reinforcing the war on terrorism in its most mili-
tant form.
Against this background, how does Russia see itself in the world after
11 September and the intervention in and occupation of Iraq? More spe-
cifically, which of the two main new trends in global politics is likely to
become a leitmotif of Russia’s own strategic thinking and policy and de-
cisively affect its behaviour on the world stage? It might well seem that
the crisis in Iraq has pushed Russia in the ‘‘winning the peace’’ direction.
However, even with its permanent seat at the UN Security Council and
its traditionally strong opposition to the use of force to settle interna-
tional disputes, Russia is unlikely to assume one of the leading roles in
‘‘winning the peace’’, for a number of reasons. Russia has only limited
political leverage and interest in managing conflicts that do not directly
affect its own national security, and it is still struggling with the task of
solving a long-standing conflict on its own territory. It also lacks signifi-
cant financial resources that could be directed to global conflict resolu-
tion and post-conflict peacebuilding purposes. Russia’s limited capacity
to gain high scores on the ‘‘winning the peace’’ scale may provide an ad-
ditional rationale for the Russian leadership to seek a higher profile in the
international arena through a closer association with the harsher forms of
the US-led war on terrorism.
Notes
1. For more detail on the ‘‘Concert of Powers’’ concept, see Chapter 3 by Ayoob and Zier-
ler in this volume.
2. Cited in The Independent, 5 March 2004.
3. See Chapter 23 by Krieger in this volume.
4. For a detailed discussion of the ‘‘responsible partnership’’ strategy, see records of a
series of expert round tables on the subject held in Moscow in 2003: Irakski krizis i
stanovlenije novogo mirovogo poryadka: sbornik materialov [The Iraq Crisis and the
Making of the New World Order: A Collection of Materials] (Moscow: ‘‘Orbita-M’’
Publ. for Foreign Policy Planning Committee & Institute of Strategic Assessments and
Analysis, 2004), pp. 174–293.
5. In public discussions, there certainly were some exceptions and a few opinions calling
for more extreme policy choices were voiced. See, for example, a statement by the Yu-
kos Oil Co. Institute for Applied Political Studies, calling for Russia’s full acquiescence
in US pressure and for it to join the anti-Iraq coalition: ‘‘Russia Has Already Lost the
War in Iraq – It Has to Become Reconciled with the U.S.’’, Moscow, 31 March 2003.
6. According to the deputy chairperson of the Foreign Relations Committee of the Rus-
sian upper chamber of parliament (the Council of Federation), V. Iver, the losses of
the Kama Automobile Plant (KAMAZ) alone exceeded @200 million (see Irakski krizis
i stanovlenije novogo mirovogo poryadka, p. 234).
7. Russian companies (including Zarubezhneft, Alfa Eco, Machinoimport, and ACTEC)
received about 30 per cent of oil sales under the UN humanitarian Oil-for-Food pro-
gramme (1996–2002), worth some US$19.3 billion (see the Independent Inquiry Com-
mittee into the UN Oil-for-Food Programme, Report on Programme Manipulation, 27
October 2005, p. 22). Russian officials (as well as politicians and business leaders) deny
the claims made by the authors of the report that Russian companies paid millions of
dollars in illicit surcharges to Saddam Hussein’s government on ‘‘Oil-for-Food’’ oil
sales. See C. Bigg, ‘‘Russia: Oil-For-Food Corruption Report Leaves Russians Cold’’,
Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty (RFE/RL), 28 October 2005; A. Nicholson, ‘‘Russians
Say Volcker Report Based on Forgeries’’, Moscow Times, 31 October 2005.
8. In March 1997, LUKOIL signed an agreement with the Iraqi Ministry of Oil and Gas to
develop Western Qurna-2 oil field on production-sharing terms. The agreement could
not come into force, however, because Iraq remained subject to UN sanctions. Later,
Saddam Hussein’s government unilaterally denounced the agreement, claiming that the
Russian side (constrained by UN sanctions) had refused to fulfil its obligations, whereas
LUKOIL considered the agreement still to be in force.
9. With only one-third of its territory explored, Iraq already has known oil resources ex-
ceeding those of Russia and all other former Soviet republics, Mexico, the United States
and Canada combined. At the same time, the costs of oil extraction in pre-war Iraq were
8–10 times lower than in Russia.
10. See an interview with First Deputy Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Trubnikov: ‘‘Yest’ pre-
del ustupkam Moskvy’’ [‘‘There is a Limit to Moscow’s Concessions’’], Nezavisimaya
Gazeta, 12 May 2004.
11. Quoted in ‘‘Putin Calls for Withdrawal Timetable for Iraq’’, RFE/RL, 19 August 2005.
12. In September 2004, Spring Time Holding Ltd, which was affiliated with ConocoPhillips,
bought the former state-owned 7.59 per cent stake in LUKOIL for almost US$2 billion.
13. According to a preliminary arrangement, LUKOIL was to keep 51 per cent of the con-
tract share and ConocoPhillips acquired another 17.5 per cent.
14. Cited in Rosbisnessconsulting, 2 October 2004. In addition to Iraq debt cuts, under the
Paris Club terms, Russia had already agreed to write off 80 per cent of Afghanistan’s
US$10.5 billion debt (which would reduce the debt to US$2 billion), and in early 2006
expressed its willingness to go even further in helping settle Afghanistan’s debt.
15. In April 2005, Russia went even further by announcing that it would sign an intergov-
ernmental agreement with Iraq writing off 90 per cent of the nation’s US$10.5 billion
(@8.1 billion) debt to Moscow by the end of 2005.
16. Polls were conducted by the All-Russia Public Opinion Research Center (VTSIOM).
Interestingly, a relatively high percentage of respondents (29 per cent) agreed that the
United States had fought the war to defend democratic values. ‘‘VTSIOM: 62% ros-
siyan schitayut operatsiyu SShA v Irake prestupleniyem’’ [VTSIOM: 62 per cent of Rus-
sians Consider the US Operation in Iraq a Crime], Rosbisnessconsulting, 18 March 2004.
17. For more detail, see Ekaterina Stepanova, Anti-terrorism and Peace-building during and
after Conflict (Stockholm: Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, June
2003), hhttp://editors.sipri.se/pubs/Stepanova.pdfi.
16
A German perspective
Harald Müller
Introduction
The war in Iraq and its aftermath pose three powerful questions to all
those thinking about the possibility and the shape of a world order in the
era of undisputed US preponderance:
What idea of order do the war in Iraq and the US administration’s im-
mediate post-war strategy stand for?
What lessons do these experiences hold for this idea of order?
Apart from this particular approach to order, what are the general re-
quirements for world order in the present circumstances and how, if at
all, can they be fulfilled?
This chapter attempts to answer all three questions from ‘‘a German per-
spective’’. The first section will explain what makes a perspective particu-
larly German. Next, I analyse the neoconservative idea of order that finds
vivid expression in US policy (before and after the attacks of 11 Septem-
ber), the 2002 National Security Strategy of the United States of America,
and its implementation in Iraq. The handling of the Iraq crisis by the
United Nations, which is often described as a ‘‘failure’’ that proves the
organization’s ‘‘irrelevance’’, is then narrated from the opposite perspec-
tive – as a success, proving the capability of the world community to
tackle the extremely complex and difficult issue of dealing with ‘‘deviant
behaviour’’ in the sensitive area of weapons of mass destruction.
After dealing with this telling historical example, and making deduc-
tions from the various experiences, I then put forward some propositions
265
266 HARALD MÜLLER
for what a world order in the present situation would require. I first look
at these requirements from the perspective of a world whose parts are
coming ever closer to each other through the growing interdependence
of economies, the global environment, international security and global
communications. I then try to understand the implications for order of
the visible fragmentation into strong reassertions of particularistic futures
(in the extreme form, militant ‘‘fundamentalisms’’). I conclude that even
vastly superior resources of power are not enough, in the circumstances,
to ensure the power holders’ desired outcomes, but that multilateral
cooperation and strong legitimacy of, and broad participation in, world
order are preconditions for achieving desired outcomes: order will func-
tion only if many actors know they have a stake in it.
This chapter does not deal with the intra-German debate on the Iraq
war. The main reason is that there was not very much of a debate. Public
opinion was opposed to the war throughout, with very large majorities,
and these majorities cut across all parties. As a consequence, even the
opposition did not support the war; the opposition candidate for the
chancellorship, Mr Stoiber, even vowed at one point that he would not
open German air space to allied aircraft supplying the war. Criticism
of the government’s position focused on procedure rather than on sub-
stance: that the Chancellor had announced his principled hostility to the
war during a campaign speech in a public forum rather than in a private
talk with the US President; that he had insinuated that the American
ally was an ‘‘adventurer’’; and that he had refused German support even
in the event of a second UN resolution. The policy of the German–
French–Russian axis was seen by staunch Atlanticists as strategic folly.
In terms of direct support for the US–UK campaign, however, only a
few lonely voices from the most conservative press or expert community
bought US arguments about the danger from Iraq’s (non-existent) weap-
ons of mass destruction or the benefits that would accrue to the Middle
East and the campaign against terror from a regime change in Iraq. The
majority of the political élite and the public, in contrast, were deeply
sceptical about these propositions. And this is about all one can say
about the ‘‘German debate’’.1
What makes a perspective particularly German?

The ‘‘German perspective’’ is derived from Germany’s post–World War
II identity as a ‘‘civilian power’’.2 After two catastrophic failures to
achieve impregnable security for the German state in the centre of Eu-
rope by attempting to impose its superior military power on its neigh-
bourhood, the collective creed of Germans became that national interests
must be pursued by drastically different means. Germany became a pro-
A GERMAN PERSPECTIVE 267
moter of multilateralism, binding itself willingly to organizations such

as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), the European
Union, the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe and
the United Nations. The transfer of some national sovereignty to these
organizations, and through the instruments of binding international law,
became instrumental to the realization of German national interests; in
contrast to other middle and great powers, these self-binding and self-
constraining moves were seen not as contrary to national interests and in-
fluence but as their best expression and as a particular, appropriate way
to realize interests and to achieve influence.
It would be wrong to assume that this Germany is pacifistic. It contrib-
uted to NATO during the Cold War: 500,000 soldiers were permanently
deployed in a strong, tank-heavy army that proved itself in countless ma-
noeuvres as highly capable. After the end of the Cold War and a brief
period of agonizing soul-searching, the constitutional court eventually de-
cided that Germany could participate in multinational peacekeeping and
peace-enforcement operations. The greatest number of German soldiers
deployed abroad has been more than 12,000; in 2004, the number was be-
tween 8,000 and 9,000. The most contested operation was that in Kosovo,
the only time when Germany joined military operations without a UN
Security Council mandate. The government made it clear, though, that this
was a singular exception, never to be repeated; German participation in
any military action had to be, in principle, both multinational and in strict
accordance with international law, that is, either in self-defence (includ-
ing alliance defence) or mandated by the Security Council. In any event,
the military instrument should be used only after all alternative ways to
solve a conflict by peaceful means have been completely exhausted; in
this reluctance the collective memory of the horrors of war, passed down
from generation to generation, continues to make an impact.3
This perspective of international order based on multilateralism and
international law, with the United Nations playing a central role, and
of a continuing reluctance to use military instruments to achieve political
goals except as an absolute last resort and in full accordance with the UN
Charter, is what I would describe today as ‘‘the German perspective’’.4 I
fully share this perspective; and it is shared even by those who see a
‘‘normalization’’ in German foreign policy. This perspective was clearly
in evidence in the Iraq case.5
Illusions of hegemonic order: Neoconservatives,

the National Security Strategy and the Iraq war
The Iraq war was in itself an expression of a particular view of world

order.6 This world view has been developed by the neoconservative
268 HARALD MÜLLER
security community in the United States since the 1970s and found its
first authoritative expression in the work of the Committee on the Pres-
ent Danger, a conservative think tank that prepared the external policy
of the Reagan presidency.7 The first few years of the Reagan administra-
tion transferred some of this blueprint into reality, but it was soon under-
cut by Gorbachev’s reforms in the USSR, which made a more accommo-
dative US policy imperative (and preferred by the vast majority of the
American people).8 The first President Bush conducted a much more
centrist policy from the beginning. In Defense Secretary Cheney’s Penta-
gon, however, the more radical views still had a home, and the first draft
for the Defense Planning Guidance of 1992 contained many elements
that found their way into the 2002 National Security Strategy.9 Other
documents written by neoconservatives left no doubts about what the
policies of a future government, led by them, would be.10
The terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 gave the neoconservative
members of the George W. Bush administration the opportunity finally
to prevail over sceptics and traditional conservatives such as Secretary
of State Powell and his deputy, Richard Armitage. However, the policy
had been discernible earlier, notably in the refusal to engage in further
arms control and the visible desire generally to avoid any entangling
constraints by international law.11 Retaining freedom of action for the
United States is a very important part of this idea of order. The US role
is to confer order by its sheer superiority in military and other resources
and its determination to apply this power without hesitation. In this view,
US hegemony is the best guarantee of a flourishing international system
in which democracy and free markets expand; the spread of democracy
and free markets, in turn, improve the prospects for stability and thereby
lower the costs of hegemony, but never to the point where the United
States would renounce its claim to superiority over all possible
enemies.12
International law and organizations are, at best, helpful for upholding
hegemonic order and, at worst, serious stumbling blocks that must be re-
moved and deconstructed. Decision-making belongs to Washington; for-
eign participation is not desired and, if it must occur, it should be granted
only to sympathetic governments in ‘‘coalitions of the willing’’ rather than
to formal alliances or collective security institutions. The main danger to
this order arises from rogue states with weapons of mass destruction or
terrorists, or a combination of both. It is precisely to eradicate this lethal
threat preventively, before it can achieve its evil goals, that US superior-
ity, unilateralism and rapid and determined military action are required
for both world order and US security.13
The Iraq war was a logical application of this strategy. Iraq, in the view
of those who had been promoting the elimination of Saddam Hussein’s
regime for a decade, epitomized the threat to world order that US strat-
egy was meant to address. The United States made a detour through the
United Nations in order to support its best ally, UK Prime Minister Tony
Blair, at home and if possible to garner the useful legitimacy that comes
with a Security Council mandate. When the latter was not forthcoming,
the resort to unilateral action was predictable. The work of the UN in-
spectors (successful, as we now know) was ignored, as was the wish of
the vast majority of the Security Council (and of world opinion) to give
the inspectors more time, as they requested.14
The war was a crushing success militarily, apparently confirming
Americans’ faith in the superiority of US arms as a source of order-
making. The aftermath of the war, however, raises serious concerns that
the neoconservative dream of hegemonic order will turn out to be a new
‘‘Proud Tower’’ illusion,15 a pipe-dream that cannot be realized because
its analysis and prescription badly misrepresent real-world conditions.
The Iraqis did not take to the streets in their millions to greet the libera-
tors with jubilation. The occupation forces failed badly in providing secu-
rity on the ground and quickly restoring the basic infrastructure needed
to make life bearable in a material sense. The disbanding of the army
and police forces and the purging of Ba’ath Party officials from the civil
service proved disastrous for internal order and had to be partially re-
voked after a few months. Divisions between and within the major ethnic
and religious groups made political reconstruction unexpectedly difficult.
Many of the exiles on whom the Pentagon had relied, especially Mr Cha-
labi, did not command much authority or credibility among the Iraqis
who had been living under Saddam Hussein’s rule for a quarter of a cen-
tury. In contrast, the Shiite clergy emerged as much more powerful and
better organized politically than the planners had anticipated. Instead of
being a decisive victory in the ‘‘war on terrorism’’, the Iraq war attracted
terrorists from around the Muslim world and made the country the
world’s most terrorist-targeted place. Desperately overburdened US sol-
diers looked in vain for strong reinforcements from abroad. The ‘‘coali-
tion of the willing’’ remained too small to supply the necessary forces to
grant the United States the desired relief and to stabilize Iraq by way of a
much more substantial occupation. The United Nations, rudely pushed
aside after the war, was called back to provide decisive services in the
transfer of sovereignty to the Iraqis. This transfer was hastily brought
forward in order to calm hostile feelings in the occupied country. Even-
tually, the impact on the military rank and file of two years of disparage-
ment of international law and of describing the enemy as the embodi-
ment of evil reared up with a vengeance in the ugly pictures from Abu
Ghraib. It was at first denied then gradually recognized that what had
happened there was the tip of the iceberg, the result of systematic rather
270 HARALD MÜLLER
than random violation of the very values on which the US image of world
order is built.16
As a consequence of choosing the wrong blueprint, President George
W. Bush and his collaborators have lost the world. Goodwill towards
America, which reached an unusual high immediately after the attacks
of 11 September, took an unprecedented dive to the lowest values ever
measured in public opinion polls. Even in the most supportive population
of the United Kingdom, US standing fell by 30 per cent. In the Arab
world, supporters of the United States found themselves in a minority
of less than 10 per cent; in US-friendly Jordan, anti-American feeling
rose to an incredible 99 per cent. Osama bin Laden, whose political-
fundamentalist utopia did not receive majority appreciation, did receive
majority acclamation for his courage in taking on the superpower.17 If
the US government had wanted to attract support for its vision of order,
it had failed as badly as it was possible to do.
Hopes for order: The Security Council, the United Nations

Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission, and
the lessons
Before I discuss the concept of order in a more fundamental way, I want

to take a brief look at an alternative for creating order in the Iraqi case
that was developed and temporarily applied but not completed. In au-
tumn 2002, after years of vacillation and under the considerable pressure
of the US threat to go to war, Security Council Resolution 1441 estab-
lished a process that was designed to eliminate the anomaly that had
reigned in Mesopotamia since 1999, a state of affairs that was in clear vi-
olation of and incompatible with armistice Resolution 687 of 1991, and
the follow-up implementation Resolutions 705 and 717. The military
build-up by the United States and the United Kingdom created the nec-
essary persuasive force to induce Saddam Hussein to comply. Inspections
began in December 2002, but encountered less than satisfactory Iraqi
cooperation.
Cooperation improved after the harsh criticism contained in Hans
Blix’s report to the Security Council on 27 January 2003 raised the
spectre of possible Security Council assent to the use of force. In Febru-
ary, Iraq consented to the destruction of the Al Samoud missile, which
exceeded the permitted range of 150 km. Resistance to unobserved inter-
views of weapons experts by the inspectors ceased.
In March, Iraq showed a readiness to provide proof that all chemical
and biological weapons had indeed been destroyed in 1991, as the Iraqis
had long maintained. The United Nations Monitoring, Verification and

Inspection Commission and the International Atomic Energy Agency
produced a ‘‘cluster document’’ outlining the remaining unanswered
questions and their interrelations and proposed a programme of action
and a list of required Iraqi proofs that, in the course of about four
months, would have provided the Security Council with a solid basis for
a decision on further proceedings. When three members of the Security
Council proposed a resolution mandating the use of force, based mainly
on intelligence allegations that did not convince the other members (and
were proved patently false after the war), the rest of the Council balked
and opted for a continuation of the inspections, as requested by Hans
Blix and Mohammed ElBaradei. The majority thus behaved completely
rationally. If the minority had abided by international law and renounced
the use of force at this point, this would have represented a remarkable
and well-ordered functioning of international order as intended in the
multilateralism project. Owing to the diligent work of the inspectorate,
there was a viable alternative to coercive unilateral action, but it was not
used because of ideological bias and misinformation.18
The meaning of world order: Peacefulness, stability,

predictability, legitimacy
The term ‘‘order’’ can be used in two ways.19 As a tool of positivism, it
can serve to describe the discernible structure emerging from the fixed
attributes of a given system and of repetitive, regular processes that take
place without major disruption.20 The decisive criterion for order is thus
long-term stability, including some resilience in the face of minor disrup-
tions. A given order may nevertheless end; anarchy and anomie may en-
sue, from which a new order may then emerge in the future.21
The second use of the term has normative connotations. It defines the
conditions that must be fulfilled for order to endure for the foreseeable
future. In this situation, stability itself might be a treacherous pretence,
masking the forces of destruction growing underground, as in a boiler
without a safety-valve. Peacefulness is thus a necessary qualifier for sta-
bility. The stability must be such that most world actors capable of dis-
ruption are motivated to renounce attempts at violent disruption because
they are sufficiently satisfied with the status quo. If they are not satisfied,
they must have sufficient prospects of improving their lot in the future to
keep them quiet, or else emergency measures must exist, with sufficient
consent among the majority to apply them in crises, to make attempts at
disruption futile. In this normative sense, order transforms into the ‘‘good
272 HARALD MÜLLER
order’’ that has been the subject of moral and political philosophy since
ancient times.
Order, as I have said, is linked with time. The longstanding existence
of a particular structure and of processes that have become routine cre-
ates the reassurance that the future will not be too dissimilar from the
present and that changes can be predicted with some reliability to remain
within sustainable limits. Stable expectations exist for the behaviour of
most other actors. Although this criterion would be met in a balance
of power system – where balancing and bandwaggoning are predict-
able types of behaviour given certain distributions of power among the
actors22 – a normative understanding of order would aim at conditions
in which the impacts of the security dilemma would be mitigated. Not
only should behaviour be predictable, but it should be ensured that the
predictable behaviour by all actors (or at least most of them) is in line
with the security needs of all others (or at least most of them).23
Lastly, the order should enjoy the support and commitment of most of
its members. Such support is the basic condition that ensures stability
over time and a broad enough consensus to deal with the deviant behav-
iour of individual challengers in any political system, whether national or
international.24 This requires that the order is seen as legitimate by most.
Legitimacy, in turn, has an input and an output side. On the input side,
it requires that there is a fair opportunity to participate in the decision-
making processes whose results impact on the actors. On the output side,
the distribution of values emerging from these decisions should be rea-
sonably fair, or at least seen as such by most of the actors.25
The requirements for global order
Globalization and interdependence
We are living in an age in which the ties of interaction between distant

places have become more substantial than at any time in world history.
Globalization is the name for this process and, even though it affects dif-
ferent sites with varying intensities, it has become clear over the past 20
years that there is little chance of escaping these external influences over
which little control exists. Obtaining the values we desire depends on the
contributions of far-away actors, and their wishes can be fulfilled only by
our contribution. The action chains resulting in value production become
longer and longer and embedded in ever more complex networks, includ-
ing vast numbers of localities and countries. This diagnosis applies to all
goods that are highly valued by humans, from the integrity of the natural
environment, to food production and distribution, to trade, to finances as

well as to security.26 The production of all these goods is embedded in
highly interdependent structures, and will not be achieved if the actions
of those involved in that production are not thoroughly coordinated.
The most powerful tool invented in human history for coordinating
the actions of large numbers of actors (millions or billions of humans,
thousands of large companies, hundreds of states) is law. Law as a system
of generalized and generally accepted norms and rules is superior to any
other coordination mechanism, notably to power. Power holders wanting
to achieve a particular outcome by coordinating the behaviour of other
parties need to keep issuing rules and enforcing them by consuming their
power resources. Law, once accepted, needs sanctions only in the rare
cases of deviant behaviour; it thus consumes far fewer resources. Law, in
addition, has a much greater propensity to create, attract and maintain
legitimacy. Power used as a crude coordination instrument without the
backing of law may create submission but also resentment. If there are
opportunities to evade it or to rebel against it, circumvention or revolt
will predictably occur. Circumvention of the law and lawless rebellion
do occur, but with much less regularity and salience than against power-
based coordination.27
From this discourse it follows that, the more complex and interdepen-
dent an interaction system, the more important and relevant is the role of
law in achieving the coordination needed to produce and distribute the
values desired by actors. In the current globalized international system,
the role of law is more relevant than ever. The system of value produc-
tion is extremely decentralized. If the system of coordination is, in con-
trast, centralized – as power coordination systems are – pathologies will
ensue in the form of rebellion.
The good news is, of course, that interdependence foments strong
interests to create coordination law and the instruments to uphold it
against the relatively rare cases of breaches, if and when actors become
aware of being spun into networks of interdependence. Without this
awareness, coordination ideologies other than law-oriented ones may
persist. With this awareness, the inclination to negotiate law will be
strong.28
Negotiating law is no easy task. An interest in having it as the appro-
priate system of coordination does not eliminate conflicts of interest over
the distribution of values. Actors are torn between these two impulses.
Since, however, the failure to achieve consensus on the norms and rules
of coordination usually results in suboptimal value production, the expec-
tation is that, after some rounds of (possibly painful) learning processes,
actors will finally develop the law needed to achieve the desired results.
274 HARALD MÜLLER
Globalization and fragmentation
There is a second aspect of globalization that makes law both more nec-
essary and more difficult to achieve. By focusing on interdependence,
I have identified its unifying forces, the creation of common interests
in lawful coordination. However, globalization occurs in a world that is
still very heterogeneous, socially, politically and culturally. Because glob-
alization has been driven by forces emerging from ‘‘Western’’ culture,
other parts of the world see it as an alien intrusion. Even in the Western
world, the speed of these developments has disturbed people and made
them feel exposed to hostile forces. As a consequence, heterogeneity is
reinforced rather than overcome. In reaction to the perceived deleterious
intrusion, people re-emphasize the elements of their identity that they
believe are at the root of their difference. Socio-cultural and political
fragmentation is thus a corollary of globalization and, indeed, the twin
of its unifying, amalgamating force.29
Fragmentation need not be, but can be, the source of horrendous vio-
lence.30 The opposition of collectivities that see each other as the hostile
‘‘other’’ contains an enormous escalation potential that, as Clausewitz
said about war, tends to move towards ‘‘the absolute’’.31 By increasing
diversity, fragmentation may create curiosity, recognition of legitimate
otherness and friendship based on a genuine interest in differences. But
it may as easily create alienation, resentment, fear and an increased
readiness to treat the alien violently. It very much depends on how the
existing or emerging order takes care of fragmentation.
Which brings us back to legitimacy. In a heterogeneous world society
in which actors are conscious of their ‘‘otherness’’ because of the cycle
of fragmentation and emphasis on identity, the legitimacy of an order
is measured not only by whether the value obtained by any single actor
is seen as satisfactory in itself, but by whether, compared with what
‘‘others’’ have got, one’s own share is reasonably fair. Concerns about
relative, rather than absolute, gains in distribution systems are always vir-
ulent. They define the stability of an order in a world society where frag-
mentation is accentuated.32
Similar reasoning applies on the input side of legitimacy. Because each
party in a fragmented world is particularly eager to get its own voice
heard in the forums where major decisions are made, decision-making
systems that are exclusionary face distrust, resentment and, eventually,
violent resistance. Despite all the convergence between cultures that
globalization has engendered, even mainstream cultural codes and value
systems are still sufficiently different to make it impossible for the mem-
bers of a particular – Western – cultural system to design patterns of
value distribution that would be acceptable to the majority of members
of other cultures; this is particularly true when the design is undertaken

without the faintest idea of the essence of the other cultures. If inter-
cultural dialogue is not integrated into decision-making, cultural cleav-
ages are bound to arise. This, in turn, requires assured participation and
representation across cultures when high-level decisions with global re-
percussions are taken.
International law, once again, can help to solve the problem. Law has
two aspects, procedural – how law is made and how it is executed and
interpreted – and substantive – which rules and norms the members of
a law community are supposed to observe, and by which prescriptions
and proscriptions their behaviour has to be guided. These two aspects
roughly correspond to the input and output aspects of legitimacy. In
terms of procedural law, the attraction of the present international legal
fiction of sovereign equality is that each country has the same formal
right and opportunity to ensure that its interests are taken into account
when international law is made. It is a fiction because, in reality, the
states with the most power and resources exert the greatest influence;
this is not completely unjust because they usually also invest dispropor-
tionately in the production of the collective goods desired by all. How-
ever, in comparison with hegemonic rule-setting, the input asymmetry –
unequal participation – is greatly mitigated in a law-guided procedure
for law production, where the various actors get a fair opportunity to
make their views known as rules are made. In a hegemony, rules are im-
posed without regard to the interests of anyone but the hegemon. Even
the United States, the classic country of immigration, is not capable of
thinking with the brain and soul of all world cultures, being dominated
still by its ‘‘Western’’ heritage.
The degree to which substantive law reflects the world’s diversity is
thus, of course, a direct reflection of its procedural twin. If procedural
law follows the principle of sovereign equality, international order will
be guided by a legal system adapted to a fragmented but globalizing
world. I hasten to add that, today, it is appropriate to give civil society
the opportunity to contribute to the process of law development, because
non-governmental organizations (NGOs) can represent those unrepre-
sented by governmental circles. On the other hand, if NGOs are admitted
to the law-making table, procedural precautions have to be taken to en-
sure that universal representation is achieved. At present, there is not
even a rule of sovereign equality among NGOs, and northern ones are
much more numerous and resourceful than their ‘‘southern’’ counter-
parts.33 Without some procedural mitigation, the asymmetry of power
that exists among states would repeat itself with a vengeance in civil
society.
The above reflections point to the enormous importance of the United
276 HARALD MÜLLER
Nations. With its universal membership, the UN General Assembly is the

appropriate body to initiate and oversee law-making and to host negoti-
ating forums in which everyone has the opportunity to participate. This
key role represents the best chance that the diverse parties in a frag-
mented world will see some legitimacy in the outcomes. The implication
of this is that the Security Council – which is much less representative –
should be very cautious and reluctant to use its prerogatives under Chap-
ter VII to act as a universal legislator. In Resolutions 1378 and 1540, it
did so under the assumption that a clear and present danger existed that
had to be addressed forthwith; it could not wait for the inevitably cum-
bersome proceedings of universal negotiations for a response. It may ap-
pear reasonable that loopholes in international law that open the gates
to imminent threats should be addressed by the Council, acting as re-
presentative of the whole threatened international community. Never-
theless, doubts and considerable distrust remain. It might thus be advis-
able to attach sunset clauses to such universal rules, combined with a
request to the General Assembly – or the appropriate international legal
community consisting of a subset of UN member states – to create a
negotiating forum to produce a set of rules to close the loophole per-
manently, while the rules set by the Security Council remain valid in the
interim.
Power over resources versus power over outcomes
Thus far, I have compared order based on hegemonic rule-making with

order based on international law. My standard was the requirements
emerging from globalization. My conclusion is that order based on inter-
national law is clearly superior in terms of efficiency because it attracts
much greater legitimacy and thus meets much less resistance. Resistance
to the implementation of rules meant to help coordinating behaviour,
however, inevitably causes a loss in efficiency.
This is not to say that hegemonic order cannot achieve something.
Indeed it can, since, behind its rules, raw power waits in the wings to pun-
ish deviant behaviour. Beyond this limited objective, however, the he-
gemonic project adopted by neoconservatism, recognizing the difficulties
caused by the fragmentation, diversity and heterogeneity of the world
community, has developed the lofty ambition of spreading democracy, if
necessary by the use of force, in order to reduce and, in the long run,
eliminate heterogeneity as a serious problem for world order. Although,
in theory, eliminating the existence of variation in political systems, soci-
etal organization and underlying culture is a possible solution to the
problem, in practice it is not likely to work well.
As the Iraq experience indicates, power measured by resources is

capable of helping to vanquish an inferior enemy. The allies’ military
victory over the Iraqi forces was crushing, professional and impressive.
Power over resources also means power over enemies, at least those
who are willing to fight on the field chosen by the superior power. What
it does not mean is power over outcomes. Although military victory can
be ensured, the desired results cannot. This is typical in a world where
such results depend on the collaboration of many actors. As I said above,
hierarchical systems of rules help little in this regard, since motivating the
many is the secret of success. Motivation, in turn, depends on legitimacy.
That legitimacy is lacking if the majority of Iraqis view their ‘‘liberators’’
as occupiers because they themselves are not at all involved in making
the rules that are applied in their country.
Imposing democracy is, in many ways, a contradiction in terms. De-
mocracy, after all, is self-determination by the people on their own con-
ditions, not those of a foreign power. There are not many examples of
successful externally imposed democracies. Germany and Japan are fre-
quently cited, but one should recognize the special circumstances in these
cases: in both cases the ancien régime was profoundly discredited not by a
short and decisive war, but by the agony of many years of warfare, the
loss of a whole generation through death, torture and long-term impris-
onment, the destruction of the homeland and an ensuing, deep-seated
trauma in the nation. Both countries had experienced a liberal, demo-
cratic period in the past, and the politico-societal structures that had sup-
ported the political system in those periods were still intact and able to be
reinvigorated after the defeat of the dictatorships. These conditions are
absent in current targets for democratization, and the cultural gap, not-
ably between the West and the Islamic world, is not conducive to the im-
position of anything external, i.e. alien, being greeted with enthusiasm by
the Muslim world, which has been on the receiving end of world politics
for the better part of 200 years.
This is not to say that world order would not be preferable in a com-
munity of democratic states, or that democracy is not compatible with so-
cial structures and culture outside the Western world. Democracy has
been flourishing in Latin America, India, East Asia and Africa, and it is
increasingly successful in Muslim Turkey. However, these were cases not
of imposition but of hard-fought change, based on the terms of the
people living in these countries. They knew how best to adapt the prin-
ciples of democracy and respect for human rights to their own value sys-
tems and conditions on the ground. Only by creating a consensus among
a large proportion of the domestic population could the democracy ‘‘out-
come’’ succeed in these transformation processes; societal power made
the decisive difference.
278 HARALD MÜLLER
Thus, in order to achieve power over outcomes, power holders have to

understand power in the sense that the late Hannah Arendt used it – as
the synergy of many individual human beings mobilized around a single
common project.34 Because such mobilization is not possible unless
people believe in the legitimacy and rightness of the objective they are
supposed to be pursuing, only a legitimacy-creating and legitimacy-
projecting order will lead to the availability of this particular type of
power. And the resources to be used to create it are much closer to the
‘‘soft power’’ spectrum than to the end of the resource continuum where
military power is located.35
Of course, this does not mean that military power is, in principle, use-
less and dysfunctional. Clearly it is not. The power to use force effectively
is needed as an instrument for upholding the law; thus it is an indispens-
able part of any law-based order. But such power is connected to the law
in a double way: as the ultimate enforcer if and when the law is violated,
and, at the same time, as its obedient servant, bound by the law in the
way power is used and its use is decided. Only in this capacity, and with
this constraint, can military power be assumed not to stand in the way of
the other notion of power: power as the mobilization of human will to
achieve common purposes on the basis of a belief in their legitimacy and
rightness.
Conclusions
The war in Iraq was the attempt by a single state, endowed with histori-
cally unprecedented superior power and actively supported by a few al-
lies, to impose its own idea of good governance on a resistant dictator-
ship, to eliminate a supposed current and future danger to the region
and the world at large, to reform the shape of a critically strategic region,
and thereby to affect world order in a positive way. This attempt was
challenged by the more limited efforts of a majority of the international
community to grapple with the possible threat from weapons of mass de-
struction (WMD). The attempt to establish a model way to deal with
non-compliance and the WMD proliferation issue in a well-conceived,
multilateral manner failed because of the determination of the super-
power to prevail with its own approach. This was not successful because
the superpower ignored the most fundamental trends of our time engen-
dered by globalization, namely interdependence and fragmentation, both
of which call for an order based on multilaterally established, legitimate
international law, and because it confused power over resources with
power over outcomes; the latter notion of power is becoming ever more
relevant as these trends increasingly shape international interactions.
Bringing order into this interdependent world is a difficult endeavour.

At the same time it is also essential because, without orderly coordina-
tion, it will be impossible to provide the goods and values needed for 6
billion people in nearly 200 states and some 5,000 ethnic groupings, and
as more and more actors – state and non-state – gain access to modern
weapons technology with its enormous destruction potential.
In our age, hegemony will not suffice to provide the necessary public
goods but will rather stimulate more and more disorder born of the re-
sentment of fragmented identities at the imposition of an alien will. The
only route to sustainable order is through international law, negotiated in
a broad, participatory fashion, reflecting a fair distribution of values on
the basis of such participation, and with effective international organiza-
tions supervising the implementation of this law. Power will be extremely
useful for law enforcement in the (presumably rare) deviant cases when
the law is broken. Law without power is toothless; power without law be-
comes criminal. Only together can they stand as the pillars of a viable
world order. Iraq was a painful reminder of this enduring truth.
Notes
1. Harald Müller, ‘‘Das zerrissene Erbe der Aufklärung. Die ideologische Polarisierung
zwischen Deutschland und den USA’’, Internationale Politik, Vol. 59, Nos 11/12 (2004),
pp. 15–24; Harald Müller, ‘‘Germany’s Conditional Solidarity’’, Internationale Politik.
Transatlantic Edition, Vol. 1, No. 1 (2005), pp. 43–48; Tuomas Forsberg, ‘‘German
Foreign Policy and the War on Iraq: Anti-Americanism, Pacifism or Emancipation’’,
Security Dialogue, Vol. 36 (June 2005), pp. 213–231.
2. Sebastian Harnisch and Hanns W. Maull, eds, Germany as a Civilian Power? The For-
eign Policy of the Berlin Republic (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2001).
3. Besides the studies cited in note 1, see Harald Müller, ‘‘German National Identity and
WMD Nonproliferation’’, Nonproliferation Review, Vol. 10, No. 2 (Summer 2003), pp.
1–20; Volker Rittberger, ed., German Foreign Policy since Unification (Manchester:
Manchester University Press, 2001); John Duffield, World Power Forsaken: Political
Culture, International Institutions and German Security Policy after Unification (Stan-
ford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999); Thomas Berger, Cultures of Antimilitarism.
National Security in Germany and Japan (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University
Press, 1998); Peter J. Katzenstein, ed., Tamed Power. Germany in Europe (Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press, 1997); Harald Müller, ‘‘German Foreign Policy after Unifica-
tion’’, in Paul Stares, ed., The New Germany and the New Europe (Washington, DC:
Brookings Institution, 1992), pp. 126–173.
4. This is not to say that people in other countries do not prefer the same principles for
world order.
5. See the debate between Gunther Hellmann, ‘‘Sag zum Abschied leidse Servus! Die
Zivilmacht Deutschland beginnt, ein neues ‘Selbst’ zu behaupten’’, Politische Viertel-
jahresschrift, Vol. 43, No. 3 (2002), pp. 498–507, and Volker Rittberger, ‘‘Selbstentfesse-
lung in kleinen Schritten? Deutschlands Außenpolitik zu Beginn des 21. Jahrhunderts’’,
Politische Vierteljahresschrift, Vol. 44, No. 1 (2003), pp. 10–18.
280 HARALD MÜLLER
6. William Walker, Weapons of Mass Destruction and International Order, Adelphi Paper
370 (London: International Institute for Strategic Studies, 2004), Chapter 4.
7. Jeffrey W. Sanders, Peddlers of Crisis. The Committee on the Present Danger and the
Politics of Containment (Boston: South End Press, 1983).
8. Ernst-Otto Czempiel, Machtprobe. Die USA und die Sowjetunion in den achtziger Jah-
ren (Munich: Beck, 1989); Raymond Garthoff, Détente and Confrontation. American–
Soviet Relations from Nixon to Reagan (Washington, DC: Brookings, 1985).
9. Excerpts from ‘‘Pentagon Plan: ‘Prevent the Emergence of a New Rival’ ’’, New York
Times, 8 March 1992, p. 14; The White House, The National Security Strategy of the
United States of America (Washington, DC: The White House, September 2002).
10. Paul Wolfowitz, ‘‘Clinton’s First Year’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 73, No. 1 (January/Febru-
ary 1994), pp. 28–43; Samuel P. Huntington, ‘‘Why International Primacy Matters’’, In-
ternational Security, Vol. 17, No. 4 (Spring 1993), pp. 71–81; Charles Krauthammer,
‘‘The Unipolar Moment’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 70, No. 1 (1990/1991).
11. Joseph Nye, ‘‘U.S. Power and Strategy after Iraq’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 82, No. 4 (July/
August 2003); Madeleine K. Albright, ‘‘Bridges, Bombs, or Bluster?’’, Foreign Affairs,
Vol. 82, No. 5 (September/October 2003), pp. 2–19; G. John Ikenberry, ‘‘America’s Im-
perial Ambition’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 81, No. 5 (September/October 2002), pp. 44–60;
Ivo Daalder and James M. Lindsay, America Unbound. The Bush Revolution in Foreign
Policy (Washington, DC: Brookings, 2003).
12. Robert Kagan, Power and Weakness, Stanford University, Policy Review, June 2002,
hhttp://www.policyreview.org/JUN02/kagan_print.htmli.
13. The National Security Strategy.
14. Hans Blix, Disarming Iraq (New York: Pantheon Books, 2004).
15. Barbara Tuchman, The Proud Tower (New York: Macmillan, 1966). The term stands
for the arrogance of the European élites before World War I, their militant social Dar-
winism, their blindness to the horrors of the imminent war, and their ignorance of the
negative dynamics of the forces they had unleashed.
16. Chris Brown, ‘‘Reflections on the ‘War on Terror’. Two Years on’’, International Poli-
tics, Vol. 41, No. 1 (2003), pp. 51–54.
17. The Pew Research Center for the People and the Press, Views of a Changing World
2003, hhttp://people-press.org/reports/display.php3?Report=185i.
18. Blix, Disarming Iraq, Chapters 11 and 12.
19. Nick J. Rengger, International Relations, Political Theory and the Problem of Order
(London: Routledge, 2000).
20. Shmuel N. Eisenstadt, ‘‘Sociology: The Development of Sociological Thought’’, in
David L. Sills, ed., International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, Vol. 15 (New
York: Macmillan, 1968), pp. 23–36, at pp. 24–25.
21. Morton A. Kaplan, Systems and Process in International Politics (New York: Wiley,
1957).
22. Stephen M. Walt, The Origins of Alliances (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1987);
Randall L. Schweller, ‘‘Bandwagoning for Profit: Bringing the Revisionist State Back
In’’, International Security, Vol. 19, No. 1 (1994), pp. 72–107.
23. Janne Nolan, ed., Global Engagement. Cooperation and Security in the 21st Century
(Washington, DC: Brookings, 1994); John Steinbruner, Principles of Global Security
(Washington, DC: Brookings, 2000).
24. David Easton, A Systems Analysis of Political Life (New York: Wiley, 1967).
25. Fritz W. Scharpf, ‘‘Die Handlungsfähigkeit des Staates am Ende des 20. Jahrhunderts’’,
in Beate Kohler-Koch, ed., Staat und Demokratie in Europa (Opladen: Westdeutscher
Verlag, 1992), pp. 93–115.
26. Marianne Beisheim, Sabine Dreher, Gregor Walter, Bernhard Zangl and Michael Zürn,
Im Zeitalter der Globalisierung? Thesen und Daten zur gesellschaftlichen und politischen
Denationalisierung (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1999); David Held, Anthony McGrew, Da-
vid Goldblatt and Jonathan Parraton, Global Transformations. Politics, Economics and
Culture (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1999).
27. Thomas M. Franck, The Power of Legitimacy among Nations (New York: Oxford Uni-
versity Press, 1990); Lori Fisler Damrosch and David J. Scheffer, Law and Force in the
New International Order (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1991).
28. Robert O. Keohane, After Hegemony (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1984).
29. Harald Müller, Das Zusammenleben der Kulturen. Ein Gegenentwurf zu Huntington
(Frankfurt: Fischer TB, 1998), pp. 58–72.
30. This is the concern voiced in Samuel Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations (New York:
Simon & Schuster, 1996).
31. Carl von Clausewitz, Vom Kriege, ed. Werner Hahlweg (Bonn: Suhrkamp, 1990).
32. Joseph M. Grieco, Cooperation among Nations: Europe, America and Non-tariff Bar-
riers to Trade (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1990).
33. Margaret E. Keck and Kathryn Sikkink, Activists beyond Borders. Advocacy Networks
in International Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1998), pp. 210–217.
34. Hannah Arendt, Macht und Gewalt (Munich: Beck, 1970); see also Joseph S. Nye, ‘‘The
Decline of America’s Soft Power’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 83, No. 3 (2004), pp. 16–21.
35. Joseph S. Nye, ‘‘What Is Power and How Can We Best Use It?’’, in Benjamin Edering-
ton and Michael Mazarr, eds, Turning Point: The Gulf War and U.S. Military Strategy
(Boulder, CO: Westview, 1994).
17
Avoiding a strategic failure in
the aftermath of the Iraq war:
Partnership in peacebuilding
Chiyuki Aoi and Yozo Yokota
Introduction
The Iraq war presented a particularly difficult challenge to Japan, the

United States’ most important, long-term ally in Asia. Although relations
with the United States remain the most important strategic priority for
Japan, the unilateral nature of the Iraq war and its implications for
the United Nations greatly worried the Japanese leadership, which had
placed ‘‘UN-centrism’’ at the centre of its post–World War II foreign pol-
icy. In the end, Japan opted to side with the United States diplomatically
– while mildly reminding it of the virtues of multilateralism – and to sup-
port the coalition-led post-war stabilization operation in Iraq militarily.
Limited as it was, Japan’s support for the United States and the coali-
tion made relations between Japan and the coalition even closer. The
Japanese support for the post-war stabilization operation, with the Japa-
nese Self Defense Forces (JSDF) providing humanitarian and reconstruc-
tion assistance in Iraq, marked a milestone in Japan’s post-war security
and defence policy. It may also suggest a more independent, proactive
Japanese military and security policy in the future, especially in the area
of post-conflict stabilization and rehabilitation.
The long-term implications of the Iraq war and of Japan’s choices in
responding to it are, nonetheless, still largely unclear. Both structural
shifts in the international system and a rather unusual situation involving
asymmetric threats account for the Iraq war, which leaves many issues
unresolved, most notably the roles of multilateral international organiza-
282
PARTNERSHIP IN PEACEBUILDING 283
tions and formal alliances in an age of strategic coalition-making. Japan

needs urgently to clarify the foreign policy goals and principles upon
which its future roles in both bilateral and multilateral security affairs
will be established. Given Japan’s economic power and military capabil-
ities, its actions will have a greater influence than ever in the past on the
stability and nature of the international system. Japan’s pacifist past may
well qualify it for the role of post-conflict peacebuilding, with the JSDF
providing non-coercive humanitarian/developmental assistance. None-
theless, such activities must be placed within an overarching strategic vi-
sion that clearly links Japan’s long-term national interests and its views
about world order.
The significance of the Iraq war: A preventive war,

a strategic error?
The lack of a legal framework in which to justify the US attack on Iraq

signifies the deeply psychological and strategic nature of the US action.
The Iraq war can be perceived as a preventive war, an attempt to fore-
stall a possible future threat.1 Such a felt need for prevention can be ex-
plained as the product of heightened psychological fear in the wake of
the terrorist attack of 11 September 2001. The 9/11 attack, the first-ever
attack on the US mainland, in which more than 3,000 civilian lives were
lost, was a deeply traumatizing experience for the United States. The un-
conventional nature of the attack, involving seemingly undeterrable op-
ponents forming a loose terrorist network, shocked the Americans. The
resulting sense of vulnerability is an important factor that explains the
course of war that ensued. Uncertainties and unreliable intelligence re-
garding the precise nature and level of the threat posed by Saddam Hus-
sein only exacerbated the fear.
In strategic terms, the US action is in line with the behaviour of great
powers in previous times that failed correctly to judge the limits of ex-
pansion.2 The United States’ ‘‘pre-emptive’’ strategy is more a product
of the unipolar structure of the international system, which increases the
propensity for hegemonic powers to use force unilaterally, than an idio-
syncratic reaction to terrorist attacks by the neoconservatives in Wash-
ington. Concurrently, the foreign policy goals of the neoconservatives
are defined in such liberal terms that working toward those goals requires
a variety of forms of intervention, including forced regime change. This
particular combination of liberal purposes and propensity for the unilat-
eral use of force makes the current US foreign policy especially aggres-
sive.3
No other single nation can realistically be expected to counter US
284 CHIYUKI AOI AND YOZO YOKOTA
power at the moment. However, it is unrealistic to assume that the United

States’ hegemonic position will automatically give it the power to impose
order, or ‘‘win the peace’’, in foreign-occupied areas without legitimacy
in the eyes of other states and also local people. In a period when terror-
ism, insurgencies and civil wars are so prevalent, the ability to ‘‘win the
peace’’ is ever more critical. More attention will need to be paid to the
kinds of operation the US military establishments have long been averse
to – for example, peacekeeping and stabilization operations and, indeed,
nation-building missions. In both Afghanistan and Iraq, it is precisely
these types of operation that will determine the ultimate outcome, and
even the legitimacy, of wars fought against the Taliban and Saddam.
Having chosen to invade these nations, the United States should remain
committed to rebuilding these ‘‘failed states’’, because leaving them
would go against the goals it sought to achieve by going to war with
them in the first place.
Nonetheless, both situations, especially Iraq, remain challenging. Real-
ists have long warned that the use of force comes with a variety of costs,
including those incurred through the ‘‘unintended’’ consequences of mil-
itary involvement, including the exacerbation of conflict and an increase
in underground resistance. There was a warning that military action might
not be the right strategy to deal with terrorism, that terrorists and their
supporters might gain the strategic upper-hand by exploiting anti-West
feelings that were certain to be encouraged by military action and post-
war chaos. Unless the United States is able to orchestrate a coherent and
broad-based strategy towards peacebuilding in both Afghanistan and
Iraq, the coalition forces may risk a strategic failure, which would com-
promise future US attempts to de-legitimate and counter terrorism.
Japan’s responses to the Iraq war

Diplomatic support
Japan’s support for the US and coalition forces puts it in the same boat
with the coalition forces in their arduous and long-term challenge of re-
building Iraq. The Iraq war posed a very difficult foreign policy dilemma
for Japan, the dilemma of having to choose between loyalty to its most
important ally, the United States, which seemed determined to go to
war against Iraq even if a new UN Security Council resolution authoriz-
ing such action was not adopted, and the post-war bedrock policy of
‘‘UN-centrism’’, which is still supported by the majority of Japanese citi-
zens. The Iraq war therefore challenged the untroubled, if not entirely
realistic, assumption of compatibility between three pillars of post-war
Japanese foreign policy: UN-centrism, alliance with the United States

and other Western powers, and friendly relations with Asian countries.
Facing this dilemma, the Koizumi cabinet resorted to a pragmatic
policy of assuring the Bush administration of Japanese support on Iraq,
while somewhat awkwardly pointing out the importance of unified UN
action. In February 2003, Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi as well as
Minister for Foreign Affairs Yoriko Kawaguchi informed the Bush ad-
ministration that, although obtaining a new Security Council resolution
was desirable, should the United States decide to take action without
such authorization Japan would still support it.4 Japan thus clearly de-
parted from the position of France and Germany. As the United States
and the European nations debated the possibilities for another Security
Council resolution to authorize military action in Iraq, the Japanese gov-
ernment’s argument was consistently that, unless the Security Council
showed unity, the United Nations would risk losing its credibility. How-
ever, rather than trying to mediate between the differing positions of the
French/German side and the United States, the Japanese government
joined in the US and UK attempts at persuading the French and German
governments to accept the draft resolution presented to the Security
Council days before the start of the war.5 Once the United States
launched the war on Iraq, the Japanese government immediately ex-
pressed ‘‘understanding’’ and supported the US action and its stated
goal of disarming Iraq and establishing democracy and prosperity in that
country.6
Lacking sufficient intelligence of its own, and unable as a result to
question the credibility of US intelligence on Iraq’s weapons of mass de-
struction (WMD) programme, the Japanese government justified the
Iraq war and Japan’s support for it on identical bases to those presented
by the US government. Rather than perceiving and presenting the war as
a preventive war, the Japanese government justified the war on the basis
of the need for pre-emption (given Iraq’s defiance of UN Security Coun-
cil resolutions and the likelihood that WMD programmes existed in Iraq)
and liberal foreign policy goals (establishing democracy and bringing
prosperity to Iraq), as well as the legal basis of Iraqi non-compliance
with past UN resolutions. At a press conference, Prime Minister Koizumi
stated that, although the Japanese government had hoped for a peaceful
settlement of the crisis, it was likewise the case that Iraq had defied the
UN weapons inspection process (violating the terms of Security Council
Resolutions 678, 687 and 1441).7
The Japanese public were deeply divided on the issue of the Iraq war
but, in general, surveys revealed their pragmatism. The public supported
the government’s policy of siding with the United States while having res-
ervations about the legitimacy of the war itself. Public opinion surveys
show a considerable degree of fluctuation depending upon the poll.

According to the Yomiuri Shimbun newspaper, with a large number of
right-wing readers, more than 70 per cent of those surveyed supported
(Hyouka suru) the fall of the Saddam regime, and more than half were
in favour of the Koizumi cabinet’s policy of supporting the United
States.8 But other surveys reveal considerably less support. For instance,
according to a Japan Economic Journal telephone survey, 25 per cent ap-
proved of the Iraq war and 68 per cent disapproved of the war, while 40
per cent supported the Koizumi policy of siding with the United States
and 49 per cent opposed Koizumi’s policy.9
Supporting post-conflict stabilization in Iraq
Japan also supports the US and coalition forces militarily. This kind of
support is meant to show that Japan is making a substantive contribution,
not just a nominal or financial one, through the provision of personnel
( jinteki koken) to the maintenance of international peace. In July 2003,
following the Security Council resolution calling on member states to
provide humanitarian and reconstruction assistance to Iraq,10 the Koi-
zumi cabinet succeeded in obtaining Diet approval of special legislation,
the Special Measures Law on Humanitarian and Reconstruction Assis-
tance in Iraq, which enabled Japan to send its Self-Defense Forces to
provide humanitarian and reconstruction assistance but not to engage in
combat. After the passage of Resolution 1546,11 which returned sover-
eignty to the Iraqis in June 2004, the JSDF continued to operate in Iraq,
this time ‘‘within’’ the UN-authorized multinational force there, but with-
out coming under the command of the multinational force.
The decision of the Koizumi cabinet to send the JSDF to Iraq was cal-
culated to satisfy the political and economic interests of Japan. The most
important of these interests is for Japan to reaffirm and strengthen the
existing Japan–US security arrangement, particularly in the face of the
growing potential threat posed by North Korea. Despite various diplo-
matic efforts during the 1990s to forestall North Korea’s declared ambi-
tion to possess WMD, a series of crises in the region have had the effect
of alerting the Japanese leadership and public to the need to strengthen
the US–Japanese security arrangement. Japan’s dependence on US de-
terrent capabilities in the region explains the difference in response to
the Iraq war between Japan and Germany. Germany, following the thaw
of the Cold War in Europe and embedded deeply in political institutions
in Europe, no longer relies as heavily on US military protection.
Another source of political pressure is the Japanese policy of seeking a
permanent seat at the UN Security Council. Japan is aware that US sup-
port is indispensable to gaining a permanent seat. Prime Minister Koi-
zumi declared this goal for the first time as Japanese prime minister at
the UN General Assembly in September 2004, in a speech in which he
cited Japan’s recent contribution in UN peace operations and assistance
to Afghanistan and Iraq.12 Since Japan’s bitter experience during the
1991 Gulf war, when its contribution of US$13 billion was received with
little appreciation by the coalition, Japan has tried to make its contribu-
tion to UN peace activities ‘‘visible’’ – in that human as well as financial
resources are provided.
There was also an economic factor behind Japan’s decision to support
the United States in Iraq. Being aware that Japan’s economy depends
heavily on the US economy, the Japanese leadership normally avoids a
hostile policy towards the United States. Although Japan is likewise
averse to hostile relations with the Middle East on which it relies for vital
resources, particularly oil, Japan gambled that the United States would
win. Pro-American Japanese Foreign Minister Kawaguchi’s background
as an economic bureaucrat made a difference in advancing that calcula-
tion. In the ministry of foreign affairs, too, relations with the United
States take precedence over other matters in practically all circum-
stances. That stance is reflected in the bureaucratic structure, in which re-
gional desks (especially the Northern American desk) exert more influ-
ence in decision-making than do functional desks (including the UN and
legal affairs desks).
The JSDF operation in Iraq
JSDF deployment in Iraq is a significant development given Japan’s pac-

ifist, anti-militarist posture. The JSDF operation in Iraq, following the
passage of Security Council Resolutions 1483 and 1511 (2003), gave prac-
tical support to what was de facto the military occupation of a sovereign
nation by the coalition, albeit under UN resolutions (of somewhat du-
bious nature), although Japan remained outside and independent of the
coalition command. Further, after the passage of Resolution 1546 (2004),
the JSDF began operating ‘‘within’’ the UN-authorized multinational
force in Iraq, which marked the first such JSDF operation in a multina-
tional force.13
However, the JSDF Iraq operation is deliberately limited; the force
level is just above 600 and geographically the operation is limited to Al
Muthanna Province in south-eastern Iraq, inside areas under the overall
responsibility of the UK military. It is significant that, although the Japa-
nese forces are deployed in a strategically unstable situation, their roles
are consciously restricted to civil affairs (humanitarian assistance and re-
construction) and no security-related tasks are mandated to the JSDF.
Both the significance of the JSDF deployment and the limitations on
that deployment have to be understood in the historical context of

Japan’s post–World War II security policy. The main factor that has his-
torically limited Japan’s military action is the political culture of pacifism,
which, as in the case of post-war Germany, laid the foundation for
Japan’s post-war identity and policy as a civilian power.14 Throughout
the post-war era, Japan’s engagement in military actions, independently
or jointly with other nations, has been considered legally problematic
given the nation’s pacifist constitution, especially with reference to Art-
icle 9.15 Certain interpretations of the pacifist constitution have ques-
tioned the legality of self-defence and the JSDF itself, interpretations
countered by the official interpretation in 1954 that Japan possessed the
right to self-defence and that the JSDF, meant primarily for the defence
of Japan’s territories, was therefore constitutional.16
Even more controversial has been JSDF participation in both collec-
tive self-defence and collective security. In both areas, domestic political
debates developed in such a way as to question the constitutionality of
the JSDF’s dispatch ‘‘overseas’’. As regards collective self-defence,
against the background of the leftist attack on the legality of the JSDF
and of the US–Japan Security Treaty, the Japanese government en-
dorsed the view that the JSDF, which was meant strictly for self-defence
when Japanese territories were under attack, would not be sent abroad.
In June 1954, the upper house unanimously passed a resolution reaffirm-
ing that the JSDF could not be sent overseas.17 The 1956 official inter-
pretation stated that Japan possessed the right to collective self-defence
as a sovereign nation but that it was illegal for it to use military force in
pursuit of that right.
In the area of collective security, to avoid getting involved in the use of
force, Japan has refrained from participating in UN-authorized multina-
tional forces, where ‘‘participation’’ is understood to mean operating
under the command of a multinational force. At the time of the first
Gulf war (1990–1991) the Japanese conservatives failed to get legislation
passed that would have allowed the JSDF to assist the coalition operation
in the Gulf. Popular resistance to the idea of ‘‘enforcement’’ has not since
been overcome.
As far as UN peacekeeping is concerned, Japan lacked any legal
framework within which the JSDF could take part in such missions until
1992, despite heated debates in the Diet through four decades. The cen-
tral issue remained the legality of the dispatch of the JSDF overseas
in whatever capacity – whether to conduct UN ‘‘policing’’ or cease-fire
monitoring or to provide logistical support. In 1980, the government
stated that it considered it constitutional for Japan to participate in UN
peacekeeping, provided its purpose and means were not forcible; the ob-
stacle, in the government’s view, was not the constitution but the lack of
relevant provisions in the current Self-Defense Forces Law covering
JSDF activities in situations other than direct and indirect attacks on
Japan.18 There was, nevertheless, no consensus in the Diet. Given these
domestic controversies, Japanese participation in UN collective action
was limited before 1992 to civilian assistance to some limited UN peace-
keeping operations.
It was not until 1992 that an initiative by three major political parties
resulted in the passage of the International Peace Cooperation Law
(IPCL), which provided for the participation of the JSDF in UN peace-
keeping and humanitarian assistance missions. As a result, Japan partici-
pated in the UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia, as well as in sev-
eral other UN peacekeeping missions. Japanese forces served in the
United Nations Operation in Mozambique in logistical planning and
command and control operations; in Zaire in 1994 assisting refugees;
from 1996 in the United Nations Disengagement Observer Force in the
Golan Heights, providing transportation; and in East Timor since 2002
providing engineering units as well as command and control.
Nevertheless, the law contained some inherent limitations as a result of
successful manoeuvres by left-wing political parties in the Diet. The most
obvious limitation was the ban on JSDF participation in so-called ‘‘core’’
activities (Hontai Gyomu), such as patrols and cease-fire monitoring,
until such time as there was international and domestic ‘‘understanding’’
towards Japan’s participation in peacekeeping. This ban was lifted in De-
cember 2001.
Nonetheless, this ban on ‘‘core’’ activities, and its eventual lifting,
probably had little practical significance given that such ‘‘core’’ activities
are relatively simple tasks routinely carried out by traditional players in
UN peacekeeping. A more significant limitation was the so-called ‘‘five
conditions’’ set for Japanese participation in UN peacekeeping: (a) the
existence of a cease-fire; (b) consent by the local parties; (c) strict impar-
tiality (these three conditions are, needless to say, the conditions for tra-
ditional UN peacekeeping); (d) in the absence of these conditions,
Japan’s right to decide whether to maintain its forces in the operation;
and (e) minimum use of force strictly for self-defence. These conditions
limited Japanese participation to cases of relatively stable, traditional
peacekeeping in spite of the fact that the nature of peacekeeping was
changing and might require limited enforcement measures to control local
parties’ fluctuating levels of consent toward peacekeeping deployments.
The five conditions have also prevented Japan from providing much-
needed advanced logistical support for UN-authorized coalition missions,
such as INTERFET in East Timor.19 These conditions are increasingly
understood within the Japanese leadership to be out of date, for they do

not recognize the strategic fluidity in which many of UN missions find
themselves in the post–Cold War environment.
Debates about the legitimacy of humanitarian intervention, active as
they have been among Japanese academics, the majority of whom grow
wary at any hint of the term ‘‘enforcement’’, have had no practical conse-
quences. This is an aspect that is similar to the German situation. Ger-
many shifted its pacifist military posture towards taking an active part in
multilateral peace operations by the United Nations and the North At-
lantic Treaty Organization (NATO) through an often uneasy involve-
ment in the humanitarian crises in the Balkans and Somalia. Japan did
not contemplate joining in UN peace support operations, for instance in
the Balkans, not to mention the unilateral Kosovo war, not only because
the conflicts there were considered largely a European and a NATO
problem, but also, and more importantly, because the use of force there
ruled out Japanese participation under the current law.
When the JSDF had participated in missions in the past, it had to
operate under extremely restrictive rules, especially concerning the ‘‘use
of weapons’’. These restrictions were self-imposed, within limits set by ci-
vilians interpreting the pacifist constitution. Unlike in most other nations,
the manner in which weapons might be used in various (hypothetical) cir-
cumstances is scrutinized in the national Diet prior to the passage of
authorizing legislation, which then reflects the general agreement. With
regard to self-defence as applying to the ‘‘lives and bodies’’ of JSDF per-
sonnel, other personnel serving with the JSDF (in the Peace Corps or
humanitarian and reconstruction assistance) and those who, while con-
ducting their missions, have come under the control or protection of
the JSDF (including foreign nationals, UN staff and staff of non-
governmental organizations), Japanese regulations do not differ from
those of other nations.20 Nonetheless, the JSDF operates under tight
rules of engagement, which cast legitimate doubt on the JSDF’s ability
to defend itself, or its missions, should the security situation deteriorate
in any peacekeeping or humanitarian assistance missions.21 Further, the
JSDF is currently prohibited from responding to requests for assistance
from foreign military contingents and is also prohibited from protecting
civilians outside its areas of control. It is natural therefore for the
Japanese leadership to be extremely cautious in managing the cost-
performance aspects of missions in which the JSDF participates.22 The
extremely cautious management by the Japanese leadership of peace-
keeping and other deployments has resulted in zero casualties, so far,
among the JSDF personnel deployed.
Given the controversy aroused in domestic Japanese politics by any
discussion of JSDF deployment ‘‘abroad’’, JSDF deployment in the In-
dian Ocean during the US war against the Taliban in Afghanistan was
quite significant. In this context, it cannot be denied that the 9/11 attacks
had a substantial impact on Japan’s security policy. Most importantly, the
9/11 attacks had the effect of accelerating and justifying the expansion of
Japanese military actions in support of US forces, which were an exten-
sion of the bilateral defence arrangement through legal as well as po-
litical discretion, a trend that had been under way since the mid-1990s. In
the autumn of 2001, after as little as a month’s debate in the Diet, the
Koizumi cabinet succeeded in getting the Anti-Terrorism Special Mea-
sures Law passed by the Diet. Under this law, Japanese naval vessels
were dispatched to the Indian Ocean to provide logistical support to the
coalition forces during the war against the Taliban. This law was ex-
tended in 2003 and again in 2005.
This uncharacteristically swift response by the Koizumi cabinet is in
line with Japanese activism in the area of bilateral defence during the
1990s. Triggered in great part by the crises in the Far East in the mid-
1990s, Japanese actions in bilateral defence were considerably more pro-
active than in previous eras. The crises in the Korean Peninsula, most
notably the repeated defiance by the North Korean regime of WMD
non-proliferation agreements, resulted in a widely held recognition that
the existing US–Japanese defence cooperation needed upgrading. The
1996 Hashimoto–Clinton communiqué declared the US–Japanese alli-
ance to be the basis of ‘‘world peace and regional stability and prosper-
ity’’, and agreed on a revision of the 1978 Guidelines for Japan–US De-
fense Cooperation (Defense Guidelines) in order to clarify the extent of
collaboration between the two nations in light of the current security en-
vironment.23 In 1997, revised Defense Guidelines were adopted, which
spelled out closer US–Japanese cooperation in a full spectrum of contin-
gencies but especially those related to ‘‘situations in areas surrounding
Japan’’. The ensuing passage of Laws Concerning Measures to Enhance
the Peace and Security of Japan in Situations in Areas Surrounding Ja-
pan clarified and expanded the areas of US–Japanese collaboration in
situations in areas surrounding Japan in concrete terms.
The JSDF deployment in the Indian Ocean should be understood as an
important extension of this bilateral security arrangement. The Japanese
Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF) is deployed in the area on the
basis of the Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law, which inherited
much from the Laws Concerning Measures to Enhance the Peace and Se-
curity of Japan in Situations in Areas Surrounding Japan, particularly in
terms of the definition of the ‘‘rear area’’. Further, the most significant
point is that the JSDF began deploying during the war in Afghanistan,
provoking a domestic debate about whether the JSDF was being sent to
a ‘‘combat area’’. The opposition parties worried that, as a result of the
JSDF being deployed in a combat area, it would inevitably take part in

(be ‘‘integrated’’ in or ‘‘ittaika’’) combat. The government responded to
this by arguing that the JSDF would not be ‘‘integrated’’ in combat, but
would serve only in areas outside combat zones and would provide only
logistical support.24
The passage of the Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law was signifi-
cant also because it justified JSDF deployment in the Indian Ocean on
the basis of international peace and security.25 It is important to mention
that the Koizumi cabinet characterized the JSDF deployment as forming
part of Japan’s ‘‘efforts to cooperate with the rest of the international
community in [its] endeavors to prevent and eradicate international ter-
rorism in order to ensure the peace and security of the international com-
munity including Japan itself’’.26 It was notable that the Japanese gov-
ernment refrained from mentioning the issue of self-defence, which was
the main argument given by the US government in justifying its military
action against the Taliban. Avoiding self-defence as a justification for the
action was supposed to keep controversial issues relating to collective
self-defence from being raised in the Diet, which might have precluded
swift government action. But it was also the government’s position that
the US action in response to the 9/11 attacks could not be fully justified
as self-defence.27 The latter interpretation may constitute another point
of significance regarding the Japanese deployment in the Indian Ocean.
The JSDF may have assisted coalition military activities with an uncer-
tain status under international law, although the Japanese government
based its decision to send the JSDF to the Indian Ocean on Security
Council Resolution 1368 (2001),28 which did link international terrorism
with international peace, although it failed to endorse collective military
action while citing the inherent right to individual or collective self-
defence under the Charter.
JSDF deployment in Iraq under the Special Measures Law on Human-
itarian and Reconstruction Assistance in Iraq of July 2003 and the Basic
Plan, adopted by the cabinet in December 2003, was likewise significant
in that it again extended both bilateral and multilateral justifications for
Japanese military action. The most important issue for the government
was the need to strengthen bilateral relations with the United States.
However, the government again used multilateral logic to justify its deci-
sion. This legislation cited Resolution 1483 (2003), which recognized the
authority (occupying powers under unified command) in an ex post facto
manner and established the United Nations’ humanitarian role in Iraq.29
The resolution called for contributions from member states to provide
humanitarian and reconstruction assistance, and the Japanese govern-
ment placed JSDF activities in that context. As in the case of Afghani-
stan, the Japanese government defined the JSDF activities in Iraq as
Japan’s contribution to the international community’s effort to bring

peace and prosperity to Iraq.
Nonetheless, the uncertain legal status of the Iraq war and subsequent
occupation made the legitimacy of the coalition operation much con-
tested. As a result, Japan may be understood to have assisted military
activities resembling an occupation of a sovereign nation, which is un-
precedented in its post–World War II history. Further, as with the case
of Afghanistan, the JSDF was deployed in a strategically fluid situation,
with counter-insurgency operations being conducted by the coalition. Al-
though relatively stable, Samawah was a careful and deliberate choice by
Japan; the situation there could easily destabilize, as pointed out by the
opposition parties as well as by some in the governing coalition.
The latter possibility poses a rather sticky question about the current
JSDF approach to force protection and security. The JSDF, which is de-
voted to civil affairs, does not have any mandate to provide security in
Sector South-East, where security-related tasks have been performed by
the Dutch, UK and Australian troops. The JSDF is reliant on the coali-
tion for the provision of security-related information. As noted above,
current Japanese domestic laws allow for the JSDF to provide for the di-
rect protection of its own force through the exercise of the right of self-
defence. Operating under tight rules of engagement, and without the au-
thority to maintain general security in the area of its operation, however,
the JSDF provides for indirect force protection, primarily through the
management of hostilities in the area of its operation.30 Hence the JSDF
leadership is keenly aware that the success of its civil affairs projects as
perceived by the local Iraqis (‘‘hearts and minds’’ operations) is a matter
of primary importance from the force protection standpoint as well as
from the humanitarian viewpoint.
The Japanese government’s decision on 18 June 2004 to extend JSDF
activities beyond the 30 June deadline for the return of sovereignty to the
Iraqis (in fact the handover was done two days early) was significant in
that it resulted in the first ever JSDF operation ‘‘within’’ a multinational
force. It is noteworthy that it is taking place in a post-conflict context, not
in a clear-cut case of aggression. Nonetheless, as a result of the govern-
ment’s attempt to keep JSDF activities in Iraq compatible with past legal
interpretations, it is again the case that the actual operation of the JSDF
is quite limited. The JSDF operates independently of, although it coordi-
nates its activities with, the unified command. While continuing to pro-
vide humanitarian and post-conflict development assistance, the JSDF is
strictly prohibited from getting involved in the use of force by the multi-
national force. JSDF activities are also limited to ‘‘non-combat’’ areas.
These rules are consistent with the four principles of JSDF participation
in the multinational forces in Iraq proposed by Koizumi: (1) no use of
force that is banned under the constitution; (2) no activities in combat

areas; (3) no ‘‘integration’’ with the use of force by other states; and (4)
command under the JSDF.
What was most notable, given the pacifist political culture of post-war
Japan, was the constant very high support by the Japanese public for the
provision of humanitarian assistance by the JSDF in Iraq. The Yomiuri
newspaper reported that more than 80 per cent of those surveyed sup-
ported the JSDF’s providing humanitarian assistance in Iraq.31 A Japan
Economic Journal telephone survey showed 52 per cent supporting the
Iraq Special Measures Law.32 Another Japan Economic Journal survey
suggests that, in April 2004, 42 per cent supported the JSDF assisting
the coalition in Iraq while 40 per cent opposed it. Those who opposed it
increased in May 2004 to 44 per cent, while 43 per cent still supported
it.33
It is notable, however, that the Japanese government’s decision in June
2004 to participate in the multinational force in Iraq was not as popular
as the initial JSDF deployment in Iraq. A Japan Economic Journal sur-
vey revealed that 49 per cent opposed Japan’s taking part in the multina-
tional force, whereas 35 per cent supported it.34
The deployment of the JSDF has so far not been affected by the re-
peated hostage-taking of Japanese nationals in Iraq, although these inci-
dents attracted high public attention and opposition parties questioned
the government on its Iraq policy based upon these highly publicized in-
cidents. In April 2004, three Japanese volunteers, including a female
worker, were taken hostage by a rebel group, later to be released with
the help of Iraqi religious leaders. In the same month, two journalists
were taken hostage, again later to be released. In the same year, how-
ever, three Japanese nationals were murdered, two of them journalists.
These added to the deaths of two Japanese diplomats in 2003 in an am-
bush near Tikrit. The concern that the Japanese government’s policy in
Iraq might be endangering Japanese nationals, as in fact claimed by op-
position parties, will continue to pose a difficult challenge for the govern-
ment in maintaining support for the coalition.
Conclusion
In sum, Japan has clearly sided with the United States and the coalition
in their post-9/11 actions and in their vision about how to restore interna-
tional order in the post-9/11 world. In both Afghanistan and Iraq, con-
cern for bilateral relations with the United States has driven Japanese
policy. To a significant extent the Japanese response to the Iraq war ex-
poses the nation’s strategic reliance on the United States and the readi-
ness of the majority of Japanese to accept that fact. To many observers,

there is a significant lack of focus on multilateralism in Japan’s response
to the Iraq war. Yet Japan’s response probably also reflects the fact that
there are indeed few security guarantees except that offered by the
United States in North-East Asia.
The Japanese government nonetheless opted to support coalition ef-
forts in Afghanistan and humanitarian and reconstruction work in Iraq
under the proclaimed umbrella of UN resolutions, despite their lack of
clarity, presenting a case that peace, democracy and prosperity in these
nations are a matter of international peace. On this basis, a partnership
has been forged between the coalition and Japan in long-term peace-
building in Afghanistan and Iraq. In this process, the Japanese govern-
ment has defined counter-terrorism and peacebuilding as matters of
international concern and linked these with international peace. The Jap-
anese government is now ‘‘bound’’ by its instrumental use of legitimacy.
Having supported the Iraq war and the ensuing stabilization operation
largely on the basis of their relevance to international peace and security,
Japan needs to be committed to and present itself as a credible actor in
post-conflict peacebuilding and reconstruction. It will need to prepare a
stronger theoretical argument for its use of the Self-Defense Forces for
post-conflict peacebuilding purposes, and to present a consistent frame-
work within which the Self-Defense Forces can operate effectively in
such contexts.
For this, coming to terms with the past (both pre-war imperialism and
post-war pacifism) would seem to be an urgent task for Japan. As JSDF
officials privately acknowledge, Asian nations still express relief that the
JSDF is operating side-by-side with their militaries (rather than inde-
pendently) in places such as East Timor. The establishment of mutual
confidence, based upon the firm recognition of Japan as a nation commit-
ted to multilateralism, is a foreign policy priority yet to be achieved. On
the other hand, given the current security environment and the trans-
forming roles of military organizations in supporting peace, Japanese
post-war pacifism, which had generally prohibited Japan from utilizing
its Self-Defense Forces for the international public good, should likewise
be revised. There needs to be a clear, transparent standard, justifiable in
light of domestic conditions as well as international standards, upon
which the JSDF can conduct UN peacekeeping and humanitarian assis-
tance missions. Such a standard should reflect consensus within Japan
about Japan’s diplomatic role and the role of Japan’s Self-Defense
Forces in international peace maintenance as well as a realistic assess-
ment of the capabilities needed to support peace in volatile situations.
What is strikingly lacking in Japan’s response to the Iraq war is a clear
foreign policy vision. Japan seems to be struggling to strike a balance be-
tween multilateral justifications and obvious bilateral needs to strengthen

defence, as well as between its militarist and pacifist past and its current
political needs. The Japanese government has resorted to special laws to
allow for controversial JSDF deployment abroad. The result, which is
typical of past Japanese debates on security affairs, is the glossing over
of the overall strategic vision in favour of tedious legal arguments with
no relevance to the issues of international concern. The issues to be con-
sidered and clarified are numerous, and legitimately include both prin-
ciples and practical considerations: how to strike a new balance between
bilateral and multilateral commitments; how to strengthen the UN system
to address new security requirements such as dealing with terrorist
threats; how to deal with the types of situation now encountered on the
ground in Iraq and Afghanistan; and how Japan should prepare to deal
with these situations – in terms of the legal framework and doctrinal
thinking. More conceptual and strategic thinking seems to be required
of the Japanese government and people in order to make wise judge-
ments about its own security and international security, which are becom-
ing increasingly interdependent.
Notes
1. See Robert Jervis, ‘‘Understanding the Bush Doctrine’’, Political Science Quarterly, Vol.
118, No. 3 (Autumn 2003); Lawrence Freedman, ‘‘Prevention, Not Preemption’’, Wash-
ington Quarterly, Vo1. 26, No. 2 (Spring 2003).
2. Jervis, ‘‘Understanding the Bush Doctrine’’, p. 366; Paul Kennedy, The Rise and Fall of
the Great Powers: Economic Change and Military Conflict from 1500 to 2000 (New
York: Random House, 1987).
3. Jervis, ‘‘Understanding the Bush Doctrine’’.
4. Mainichi, 23 February 2003.
5. Mainichi, 13 March 2003.
6. Yomiuri, 21 March 2003.
7. Ibid.
8. Ibid.
9. Nikkei Denwa Yoron Chosa, March 2003, hhttp://www.nikkei-r.co.jp/nikkeipoll/
qandres/y200303a.htmi.
10. UNSCR 1511 (2003).
11. UNSCR 1546 (2004).
12. The speech by Prime Minister Koizumi at the 59th UN General Assembly, 21 Septem-
ber 2004.
13. The government does not use the term ‘‘participation’’. The original Japanese in the de-
cision of 17 June 2004 in the Security Council of Japan reads: ‘‘Takokuseki gun no naka
de’’. Iraq Jindo Hukko Shien Tokoso Ho ni motozuki Jieitai ga Iraku ni oite okonau Jin-
dou Hukko Shien Katudou nado ni Tsuite [About JSDF humanitarian and reconstruc-
tion activities in Iraq based upon the Law Concerning the Special Measures on Human-
itarian and Reconstruction Assistance in Iraq] (Security Council of Japan Decision on
Heisei 16 (2004) 17 June).
14. Hans Maulle, ‘‘Germany and Japan: The New Civilian Powers’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol.
69, No. 5 (Winter 1990/1991); Takashi Inoguchi, Saori Katada and Hans Maulle, eds,
Global Governance: Germany and Japan in the International System (London: Ashgate,
2004).
15. Yozo Yokota, ‘‘PKO and Japan’s Domestic Politics: A Legal Analysis’’, in Soo-Gil Park
and Sung-Hack Kang, eds, UN, PKO and East Asian Security: Currents, Trends and
Prospects (Seoul: Korean Academic Council on the United Nations System, 2002).
16. Akihiko Tanaka, Anzen Hosho: Sengo Gojunenn no Mosaku (Tokyo: Yomiuri Shinbun-
sha, 1997), pp. 148–149. This interpretation was coupled with the so-called ‘‘three prin-
ciples’’ of self-defence, adopted in the Diet in 1954.
17. The Nineteenth Session of the Diet, cited in Shigeru Kousai, Kokuren no Heiwa Iji Kat-
sudo (Tokyo: Yuhikaku, 1991), pp. 478–479.
18. Kousai, Kokuren no Heiwa Iji Katsudo, pp. 500–501.
19. On the basis of the five conditions, the Japanese leadership ruled out a Japanese re-
sponse to the call to provide medical support to the Australian-led coalition force in
East Timor.
20. See Article 24 of the International Peace Cooperation Law, and Article 17 of the Spe-
cial Measures Law on Humanitarian and Reconstruction Assistance in Iraq.
21. See also the discussion below on force protection.
22. Confirmed in an interview with a JSDF official.
23. ‘‘Japan–U.S. Joint Declaration on Security: Alliance for the 21st Century’’, 17 April
1996, hhttp://www.mofa.go.jp/region/n-america/us/security/security.htmli.
24. ‘‘Combat’’ is defined in the Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law as acts to kill people
or destroy objects as part of international armed conflicts (Article 2(3)).
25. For a similar assessment, see Akio Watanabe, ‘‘The Higuchi Report and After: Evolu-
tion of Japan’s Defense and Security Policies during the Past Ten Years’’, Kokusai An-
zen Hosho, Vol. 31, No. 3 (December 2003).
26. Statement by Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi on the Passing of the Anti-Terrorism
Special Measures Law by the Diet of Japan, 29 October 2001.
27. Watanabe, ‘‘The Higuchi Report and After’’.
28. UNSCR 1368 (2001).
29. UNSCR 1483 (2003).
30. Interview with JSDF officials.
31. Yomiuri, 21 April 2003.
32. Nikkei Denwa Yoron Chosa, March 2003.
33. Nihon Keizai Shinbun, 5 July 2004.
34. Ibid.
18
A Latin American perspective
Mónica Serrano and Paul Kenny
Introduction: Latin America and US hegemony
A Latin American perspective on world order – isn’t there a whiff of the

incongruous about this? Even if there is one, why should it count?
Latin America’s place in world order is peripheral. Whether it be a UN
or US world order, Latin America at worst hosts a set of endemically dis-
ordered states, and at best is too far removed from the centres of order to
register. Yet whether world order means UN or US order also clearly
makes a difference in Latin America. As Ramesh Thakur and Waheguru
Pal Singh Sidhu write in Chapter 1, the shock over Iraq between ‘‘the
world’s indispensable power’’ and ‘‘the world’s indispensable institution’’
was of seismic proportions. Peripheral though it is, Latin America could
hardly fail to register the effects. Latin America’s very peripherality in
fact lent an added sensitivity to its perspective on the large shifts dis-
cussed by Thakur and Sidhu.
For Latin America, the question of the United States’ preventive inter-
vention in Iraq became a reflexive question about its own relative global
powerlessness; in other words, a question about its continuing subjection
to US hegemony. US hegemony over Latin America is a self-evident
truth, impossible to elude even in projections of what a non-US-centric
world order might look like. Contrast, for example, the title of Joseph
Nye’s globally ranging critique of US unilateralism, The Paradox of
American Power: Why the World’s Only Superpower Can’t Go It Alone,
with the three entries under ‘‘Latin America’’ in the index:1
298
A LATIN AMERICAN PERSPECTIVE 299
adoption of American standards by

democratization
foreign-born Americans from
Nye’s is a US-centric argument against US unilateralism. There’s nothing
wrong with that, but his index still confirms Latin America’s low ranking
in a US-centric view of world order.
Putting it in shorthand, the continent both falls under US hegemony
and shares the basic democratic values of the Western hemisphere.
‘‘The Hispanic challenge’’, the last item, deserves mention as a source of
US concern, although not for Nye himself. Generally, however, Latin
America is not a US priority because it is not a problem.
It might seem that Latin America would be more of a priority in its
own right if its disorder were more of a problem for the United States.
In fact, the paradox of Latin American powerlessness works differently.
As long as it does not pose a problem, Latin America is subsumed by
US hegemony; when it does create trouble, US hegemonic intervention
faces no obstacles in fixing it on its own terms. Why is Latin America pe-
ripheral, then? Because it has no way of escaping the United States.
From the 1980s on, Latin America’s political élites gave up looking for
the exit. Given the choice between oblivion in outer space or subscribing
to the Washington consensus, signing free trade agreements and securing
US military aid, élites fell over themselves to hitch their bandwagons to
the United States. The more desperate embraced the United States’ war
on drugs; the more ambitious would enthusiastically adopt far-ranging
economic liberalization. In different ways, but with only few exceptions,
Latin America consented to US hegemony.
Latin America thus experienced the implications of a US-centric world
order before the rest of the late-twentieth-century world. It has not been
a salutary experience, with things turning out badly for both the desper-
ate and the ambitious. The deeper lesson of the experience, however, has
been that consent to hegemony means losing visibility: only one perspec-
tive counts.
Nye’s entry under ‘‘democratization’’ provides a benign but also a
particularly apposite example of the double-edged logic at work. Latin
American democratization can indeed, from a US perspective, be pretty
much tantamount to the adoption of an American standard since the de-
mise of both military dictatorships and, with the exception of Colombia,
armed insurgencies. From a Latin American perspective, however, the
transition to democracy has in many countries precipitated grave crises
of governance and rising tides of anti-systemic protest. Human rights re-
cords have not necessarily improved; the coup d’état has returned; cor-
ruption scandals refuse to go away; and the gap between rich and poor
only widens. These are the problems that currently have most of Latin
300 MÓNICA SERRANO AND PAUL KENNY
America in their grip, yet they hardly register for the United States.
Whether paradoxically or not, the transition to democracy has reduced
the international profile that Latin America had in the troubled epoch
of dictatorship and insurgency.
If one re-writes the index for Latin America under US hegemony, it is
not hard to see why this should be so:
Colombia: drugs, war on
Mexico: border with United States; migration from
Andes: drugs, balloon effect of
Paraguay, Brazil, Argentina: terrorist havens on triple frontier of
Such are the US realities of Latin America. They reflect, above all, the
securitizing logic of the war on drugs. So long as a country such as Bolivia
does not challenge that logic, it may go to the wall without so much as a
murmur from the United States. From Argentina to Venezuela, Latin
American countries enjoy the sovereign right to descend into disorder
without US interference, so long as the chaos presents no security chal-
lenge to the United States.
Already blinkered by its own security concerns vis-à-vis Latin America
before the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001, the United States in-
tensified its securitized vision afterwards. With its homeland security
under direct threat, the United States was convulsed first by tragedy, then
by an apparently consuming urge to divide the world into friends and
foes. As al-Qaeda sought to convert anti-Americanism into the cause of
a global war, so the natural allies of the United States and major institu-
tions such as the United Nations came under pressure to show their soli-
darity with the United States as never before. The new pressure on Latin
America, however, produced a crack within the hegemonic order. The
United States, as ever, wished for an echo to its own reality; not all Latin
American countries found they could give it.
The key case was Mexico. The most natural of the United States’ Latin
American allies, given the depth of regional integration under the North
American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), Mexico’s supply of sym-
pathy was short. President Fox delayed for days after 9/11 before making
the gesture of a telephone call to President Bush. The limit to the adop-
tion of American standards was in turn noticed.
For Mexico, 9/11 spelled the end of any hopes of a deal with the United
States over the illegal status of millions of Mexican migrants. For Latin
America generally, 9/11 also marked the end of any chance of making
its realities count against US perceptions. The hemispheric consequence
of 9/11 was to sharpen the hegemonic dilemma: to submit and be counted
on US terms, or not to react and be discounted.
Many Latin American countries found themselves too dependent upon
the United States to refuse the new demand for support. But many were
not going to rise to the level of commitment demanded by the United
States either. In the test case of Colombia, Brazil and Venezuela declined
to categorize the insurgents as terrorists on a par with al-Qaeda, and Ec-
uador and Peru drew back from the regionalization of the conflict envis-
aged by Plan Colombia. At the same time, the near presidential victory
of Evo Morales in Bolivia on a platform of opposition to US drug eradi-
cation policies signalled a new trend of anti-Americanism within Latin
America, one synergized by a confluence between opposition to neo-
liberalism and anti-globalization.
As the war on Iraq loomed, the signs of hemispheric fissure increased.
On the one hand, Latin America as a whole shares a diplomatic tradition
that is explicitly opposed to military intervention in general, and to US
military intervention in particular. On the other, the inescapable reality
of hegemony would still dictate the terms of Latin American resistance:
it would have to make itself felt without coalescing into an overt chal-
lenge to the United States. The Latin American perspective on Iraq
would be marked by the peculiar mixture of rifts and constraints within
the hegemonic relationship with the United States. Insofar as a matter
of diplomatic principle was at stake, leading Latin American countries
did oppose the United States. Hegemony reached a limit. The question
was how to articulate that a limit had been reached while still bowing to
the inevitable.
The Latin American dilemma of divergence within dependence would
have remained utterly peripheral had not two of its states, Mexico and
Chile, come into the UN Security Council in 2003. The drama that en-
sued would itself be a test of the implications of a US-centric world order.
The Security Council offered a world stage for the submerged conti-
nent to rise up and be seen. That, at least, was how the leading Mexican
actors in the drama saw their role in 2003. In the words of Foreign Min-
ister Jorge Castañeda, Mexico came to the Security Council looking to
participate ‘‘in the design and construction of the new post Cold War
world order, simultaneously characterized by the hegemony of the
United States and the effort of the rest of the world to limit and control
that hegemony’’.2
This chapter is about the fate of that Latin American design. Since the
drama was driven by perspectives, we begin with these before moving on
to the acts. In the conclusion, we turn our own critical perspective upon
the Latin American protagonists. Were Mexico and Chile up to playing a
constructive international role on behalf of the world order represented
by the United Nations? Or was their divergence from the United States
itself limited and controlled by its hegemony?
US order in Latin American perspective; Latin American

disorder in US perspective
The virtual veto of the Security Council robbed the US war on Iraq of
international legitimacy; but into the gap the Bush administration
wedged its doctrine of the preventive use of force in assuring its own na-
tional security. If the spiral of terrorism from political Islam is the most
alarming short-term consequence of the invasion of Iraq, for many the
long-term implications of this new US doctrine for world order are no
less troubling. With its willingness to bypass the United Nations now es-
tablished, what is the post-Westphalian limit to US military intervention?
From the start of the Iraq crisis, this question was uppermost in Latin
America. Indeed, the continent was uniquely well – or badly – placed to
hear the alarm bells:
The only zone of the planet constantly wronged by the United States has been
Hispano-America. In 1847 Mexico suffered the mutilation of half of its territory.
It was an unjustifiable act of historical piracy which haunted Mexican govern-
ments like a nightmare until 1927 . . . Along with Mexico, the ‘‘banana republics’’
of Central America and the Caribbean islands of ‘‘the US’ Mediterranean’’ were
the next victims of gunboat diplomacy: the annexation of Puerto Rico, the com-
pulsory protectorate for Cuba . . .3
The list goes on: Sandino in Nicaragua, Arbenz in Guatemala, Allende in

Chile. For most of Latin America, US military intervention is an ever-
present threat to world order because it is a memory that refuses to die.
The exceptional significance of this historical consciousness for Latin
America’s perspective on world order cannot be overestimated. It ac-
counts, in particular, for the high stock set in Latin America upon the
United Nations and institutions such as the International Court of Jus-
tice. Latin American commitment to them is the genuine commitment of
the protection seeker. Equally, behind Latin America’s adherence to the
general principle of multilateralism often lies the specific interest in non-
intervention, along with the bargaining advantages opened for it in a
multipolar world.
More than an interest, though, Latin American opposition to US inter-
vention is deep-seated. Even in Colombia, where US involvement in the
counter-insurgency has been democratically validated, the number of US
military personnel actually in Colombia in 2003 was a mere 358. Colombia
is a vivid demonstration of the more general Latin American paradox by
which visceral opposition to direct US intervention sits side by side with
submission to US hegemony. Latin America does not want to let the
United States in; but it does not want it to go away either.
These are the terms of acceptance of US order. Understandably,

whether in Latin America or in Iraq, they pose a difficult challenge to
the United States – to exercise its hegemony virtuously but not to inter-
vene. Ought there not to be a bigger trade-off? With so many Latin
American countries clamouring for economic integration through free
trade agreements with the United States, ought they not to be counted
as natural allies of the United States? When the United States has genu-
ine security concerns, should it not be allowed to tell its allies how to put
their houses in order?
As with the war on drugs, so with the war on terrorism: it is the intro-
duction of a security dimension by the United States, with the call for
militarized regional responses, that tests the limits of the acceptability of
its indirect hegemonic rule. In a US world order, the responsiveness of its
allies to its security concerns is the measure of those allies’ standing. To
the degree that they do not wake up to US concerns by militarizing, allies
lose their right to be treated as partners.
It is not even, after all, the case that the continent is immune from
terrorism. Colombia’s insurgents may be a controversial case in Latin
America, but the presence of Islamic terrorists in Paraguay’s Ciudad del
Este has been incontrovertible since Iranian-linked Hezbollah terrorists
killed 117 Jews in Buenos Aires in the bomb attacks of 1992 and 1994.
Likewise, a report by the US–Mexico Binational Commission in 2004
spelled out not just how devastating a terrorist attack in Mexico could
be, for both Mexico and the United States, but also what some of the
petroleum installation targets could well be.4 Is it not time that Latin
America woke up to the threats it poses to the United States?
Certainly, few Latin American countries can afford not to respond to
US alarm calls. Despite its unhappiness with Plan Colombia, Brazil is
taking unprecedented measures to tighten its northern border; despite
its rebuff over immigration, Mexico is cooperating with US security mea-
sures along its border. But, from a US perspective, Latin America more
complies with than fulfils US expectations. Less directly imposing than in
the past, US hegemony now takes the form of an invitation to share its
security perspectives, along with a flat refusal to credit the existence of
any others. The failure of the region to intervene in, or even form a plan
for, Colombia is one of many upshots: when the United States is involved
on its terms, the region backs off. However, once the issue is the security
of the United States itself, its expectations are exponential. If it is drugs
today, what can Latin America do when it is migration tomorrow?
On different levels, the more prominent Latin American states put up
resistance to the United States just when the United States expects them
to fall into line. The more the United States securitizes threats, the more
wary becomes the Latin American response. The historical precedents
become reactivated, fears for the future intensified. Wherever the United
States intervenes, Latin America sees its history being repeated.
No level of response to the US intervention in Iraq was deeper than
that of Latin American domestic opinion. Far from finding an echo there,
the security concerns of the United States were represented as the thin-
nest of imperialist disguises; Iraq was just one more case in a litany of US
interventions, one more banana-cum-oil republic. Opinion formers found
parallels, not between Hussein and Castro, but between the pattern of
US intervention in Latin America and in the Middle East, one in which
the United States had installed friendly dictators over the heads of suffer-
ing peoples.5 Politicians came in on cue. When at the height of the Iraq
crisis President Fox said ‘‘there are threats from outside’’, for his Mexican
audience he could mean not al-Qaeda or weapons of mass destruction,
but only the United States.6
At this crudest level, the significance of Iraq in Latin America was that
it exposed the limits of the hegemonic arrangement for both sides. For
the United States, if it listened, the message was that Latin America is
behind the real time of the new world order in which new threats have
to be responded to. For Latin America, the crisis over Iraq brought
home the untenability of simultaneously opposing and submitting to the
hegemon. Both sides found themselves looking for the exit. For the
United States, the exit was unilateralism, with the attendant dilemmas
noted by Thakur and Sidhu. For the more chafing Latin American states,
the exit was the United Nations, the only forum in which opposition to
the United States might be expressed without risking the benefits of in-
terdependence with the United States.
Even without the test of Iraq, some of those states were already
voicing their discontent with the structural situation in which they are re-
moved from a world order that in turn neglects them. Take this message,
delivered by Luiz Felipe de Macedo Soares, Brazil’s under-secretary of
foreign relations:
Mexico and Brazil, as Latin America’s two great countries, can or ought to jointly
express their concern about the situation of Latin America . . . so as to attract the
attention of the other centres of power.7
In its hesitant urgency (‘‘can or ought to’’), the message catches the plight
of Latin America at the start of the twenty-first century: where can Latin
America count? Yet the message was delivered just as the attention of
the world was becoming mesmerized by Iraq and the prospect of US in-
vasion. Was this a time for Latin America to count?
For one utopian Latin American protagonist, Mexico, it was. It could
not forget 1847, but Latin American history might at last be changed by
the creation at the other centre of power, if not of a non-US-centric

world order, at least of a US-constraining world order. Driven by its
particular historical consciousness, Mexico’s utopianism would test the
power realities of both the US and the UN world orders.
Mexico: The anatomy of a crisis
Mexico obtained its place as a non-permanent member of the Security

Council two days before 11 September 2001; it would assume the presi-
dency on April Fool’s Day 2003.
The inauspicious story of Mexico’s role in the Security Council began
not on 1 January 2002, when it took its seat, but in the country’s transi-
tion to democracy in 2000. After 71 years of rule by the PRI (Party of
Institutional Revolution), President Fox’s foreign minister, Jorge Casta-
ñeda, was keen to project a new international image of Mexico. The ad-
ministration would assert itself with the United States over the status of
the 3.5 million illegal Mexican migrants there, and would promote human
rights, even if this meant breaking with its traditional policy over Cuba.
Mexico was going to gain a voice that could now legitimately count in
the world.
The story, however, would not be Mexican if it did not have a deeper
sub-plot. The last time Mexico had been in the Security Council, in the
early 1980s, its ambassador, Porfirio Muñoz Ledo, won notoriety by carry-
ing a gun on the streets of New York. In 2003 he was more diplomatic,
if somewhat ungrammatical:
Evidently now, the theme of the new world order, of the reconstruction of the
UN’s authority and above all of the struggle for a multipolar world in which Latin
America, Europe can coordinate themselves, well it’s going to help to get a better
world.8
Mexico was propelled into the Security Council in 2003 by a group of

politicians and diplomats with ambitions for the United Nations, the
world and Mexico.9 The Security Council offered them the only arena in
which to put a Latin American mark on world order. In it, the latent
conflict between Latin America and the United States could, on the one
hand, come out into the open, and, on the other, be set to one side of the
reality of the ongoing, free-trade-driven bilateral relationships.
When the crisis over Iraq blew up, it must have seemed to observers of
Mexico that here once again was a case of one of its projects being over-
taken by events out of its control – 9/11 all over again. Yet, although
Mexico could not have anticipated that its position on Iraq would be crit-
ical, it could well have anticipated that its votes were going to be weighed
in the balance with the United States. President Bush had supported
Mexico’s campaign to join the Council in place of the Dominican Repub-
lic (which, along with all the Central American Republics, would later
approve the invasion). The US position over Mexico’s vote on Iraq was
in turn delivered by US Ambassador Tony Garza: ‘‘We’ll respect the po-
sition of any country, but what we most want is that Mexico give its sup-
port, and understand our position.’’10 By the time President Bush spoke
on the telephone to President Fox, the message was simpler: ‘‘The secu-
rity of the United States is on the line. I want your vote.’’11
As Mexico’s business community was not slow to point out, Mexico’s
interests clearly lay in supporting the recipient of 90 per cent of its ex-
ports. There was also the vulnerable situation of the still illegal Mexicans
in the United States to think of. Yet Mexico had two reasons for deciding
not to ‘‘do the right thing’’. Unfortunately, the two reasons did not find a
single mouthpiece.
On the surface, Mexico’s participation in the Security Council was
strictly on the basis of its own historical and constitutional commitment
to principles of non-intervention and the peaceful resolution of con-
flicts.12 If Mexico’s ethically sovereign reasons of state inhibit it from
sending soldiers to UN peacekeeping missions, it could hardly be ex-
pected to approve a US-led intervention in Iraq.13
Below the surface, though, the crisis over Iraq offered an ideal test for
the more ambitious Mexican design of checking US unilateralism. Could
Mexico dissuade the United States from doing what it wanted over Iraq?
No. But could it lead the veto of world consensus against the United
States? If yes, the case for an expanded Security Council would be
strengthened, along with the authority of the United Nations.
These are the considerations that broke through in the otherwise in-
opportune exuberance of Jorge Castañeda’s assessment in the aftermath
of the crisis:
Instead of the Council having decided that it was not going to approve this Reso-
lution and that therefore the Americans, English [sic] and Spanish would not be
able to present the second Resolution, they would have had the nine votes. If it
wasn’t for Mexico and for Chile, they would have had the nine votes and so, of
course, it was worth it.14
With even greater diplomatic immunity, Castañeda went on to opine: ‘‘It

was a great piece of luck for Latin America’’ that the seats on the Coun-
cil fell to Mexico and Chile. ‘‘Just imagine what would have happened if
another two countries from Latin America had taken them.’’15 Only
Mexico and Chile were up to leading what became known in the United
Nations as the ‘‘revolt of the Latins’’.
No Mexican figure was more pivotal than Foreign Minister Castañeda.

He alone could have played the two cards Mexico had in its hand against
the United States.16 Yet Castañeda resigned at the beginning of 2003,
soon to pursue independent presidential ambitions. When he went, he
took with him the copy of the script that had the prompts marked for
President Fox. From February 2003 on, the president had only the sur-
face reasons in which peace was always the only end Mexico could pur-
sue.17 President Fox was not the protagonist of the Mexican Security
Council drama; the moment he assumed centre-stage was the moment of
transition from well-laid plan to grief for Mexico.
Not that President Fox’s insistence on a peaceful resolution to Iraq did
not meet positive acclamation in Roman Catholic Mexico. To the con-
trary, he achieved an apotheosis of popularity, gaining a positive rating
of 76 per cent compared with one of 17 per cent for Bush in Mexican
opinion polls between 18 and 29 March. Opposition to Mexico’s lending
‘‘moral support’’ to the United States increased from 49 per cent to 59
per cent.18 Peace, in other words, was less a policy of neutrality than one
of Mexico’s other religion, nationalism.
When deputies from President Fox’s PAN (Party of National Action)
referred to a ‘‘despot’’, they meant George W. Bush;19 when a leading
opposition deputy talked of ‘‘war, horror, death, genocide and holo-
caust’’, he was referring not to Saddam’s Iraq but to ‘‘policies’’ that
should not be supported by Mexico.20 Fox played his part in whipping
up this national frenzy; but he was also playing on an uneven terrain
with a Goliath whom his diplomatic Davids had attempted to shift. From
a Mexican perspective, the point was that Mexican governability depends
upon giving in to Mexican anti-Americanism. From a US perspective, this
was just one more of those Latin American realities that cut so little ice
with it.
Even as Mexican society gave its veto, President Bush both threatened
Mexico with ‘‘discipline’’ and turned up the pressure for Mexico’s back-
ing, which new Foreign Minister Ernesto Derbez would later call ‘‘bru-
tal’’.21 Mexican business leaders took to the op-ed pages to warn that
Mexican beer was going to go the way of French wine in the United
States. President Fox received the dreaded call from President Bush,
hedged, and promptly took refuge in hospital to avoid having to return
it. The roof appeared to be collapsing on the administration’s head.
The point of the Security Council plotters had thus been made: for
Mexico to challenge the United States on bilateral terms may produce a
fleeting domestic catharsis, but no diplomatic (much less world-historical)
sequel. Indeed, one of the few things the Bush and Fox administrations
agreed on was that there would be no deal over migration (as perhaps
Castañeda had originally hoped) as a reward for Mexico’s vote. Instead,
for both the United States and Mexico the issue of Iraq came down to
basic allegiance – unconditionally expected by the United States, uncon-
ditionally refused by Mexico.
President Fox had led Mexico to an unsustainable stalemate with the
United States and also foreclosed Mexico’s exit options in the Security
Council. Mexico’s position there, articulated through the traditional
‘‘pacifist militarism’’ of Ambassador Adolfo Aguilar Zı́nser, allowed no
room for bargaining with the United States. But because Mexico was
now dancing to a patently nationalist tune in the Council, the option was
in turn open to the United States of turning its back on diplomacy there
with Mexico and piling on the pressure at source. The new foreign minis-
ter began to communicate a policy of ‘‘wait and see’’, of principled – or
pressurized – indecision. The United States had opened a breach in Mex-
ican diplomatic discourse. Even when given, ‘‘No’’ was not an answer for
the United States.22 ‘‘Did they [the United States] behave badly? Tell
them. If they block you, it doesn’t matter, tell them,’’ advised Marı́n
Bosch, ex-under-secretary of foreign relations, after the event.23 Instead,
Mexico had only been able to tell them it was going to tell them.
On the one hand, the exercise of US pressure on Mexico, as on Chile,
was nakedly hegemonic. Both Mexico and Chile went as far as they could
in opposing the United States, paradoxically finding in their very depen-
dence upon the United States an incentive to resist it. The crucial point,
on the other hand, is that they were unable to oppose the United States
together.24 If opposing the United States was ‘‘worth it’’, what was the
value to multilateralism of Mexico and Chile’s disjoined opposition?
Chile: Multilateralism in principle and in practice
Three overlapping features made Chile a prominent player over Iraq.

First, Chile has a tradition of legalistic respect for international law.25
Combined with Chile’s interest in maintaining economic and trade stabil-
ity (Chile is the third-largest user of the Panama Canal, for example), this
makes for a deep commitment to the United Nations and multilateralism.
Secondly, as in Mexico, and Argentina before it, Chile’s diplomatic activ-
ity reveals a country ambitious to capitalize internationally on its transi-
tion to democracy.26 Finally, and unlike Mexico, Chile had in Ricardo
Lagos a president fully in control of the diplomatic script. The first fea-
ture had already made Chile loyal to the United Nations. The second
and third enabled it to become a protagonist in the Security Council.
Chilean protagonism in early 2003 advanced on the traditional prem-
ise, expressed thus by Foreign Minister Marı́a Soledad Alvear: ‘‘Multi-
lateralism is a permanent interest of Chile.’’27 It was a motto that would
survive intact for Chile, even in the face of the 2003 defeat for multilater-
alism. It was also a motto that set Chilean off from Mexican diplomacy.
Where Mexico adhered to an orthodox interpretation of its foreign policy
principles and fell back on pacifism, Chile established itself as a genuine
multilateral player and, as a result, took up a more nuanced position. No-
tably, Soledad Alvear registered a condemnation of Saddam Hussein’s
regime that Mexico scarcely attempted. She also endorsed both the ur-
gency and the unambiguity of Resolution 1441, as well as the build-up of
US troops on Iraq’s borders. A confrontation with Iraq was ‘‘indispens-
able’’, but so too was ‘‘the maintenance of a multilateral control of the
crisis’’.28 For Chile, the credible authority of the United Nations over
Iraq and the ‘‘common aim of disarming Iraq by peaceful methods’’
could be maintained through the ‘‘only instrument’’ available, the
weapons inspections.29 Chilean diplomats remained in close contact with
Hans Blix, the UN chief weapons inspector.30
Had Iraq been a crisis like any other, Chile’s multilateral faith would
have been exemplary. As it was, once the permanent members of the
Council split, Chile’s principled position became untenable. Its power-
lessness at the abandoned centre came to symbolize that of the United
Nations.
Chile had been in the Council before, most recently in 1996–1997.
It came in 2003 as the undisputed economic growth leader of Latin
America. A lesson in powerlessness was not what it expected, much less
– for this regionally isolated country – one in specifically Latin American
powerlessness. Chile was prepared to defend multilateralism; it was less
prepared for the confrontation with the United States this would entail.
The US–Latin American dimension of Chile’s experience came as a
shock.31 Chile could go as far as intimating to the United States that it
was with it so long as the United States was with the United Nations; be-
yond that, Chile had no scenarios.
Yet, in Spring 2003, Chile was also in a situation of unique vulnerabil-
ity to the United States. A free trade agreement, pursued by Chile for 12
years, was pending US congressional ratification, as was the purchase of
F-16 fighter airplanes. Its more nuanced diplomacy notwithstanding, Chile
was not that far removed, after all, from Mexico’s predicament.
As with Mexico, Chilean society was both opposed to the US invasion
of Iraq and apprehensive of the consequences of its opposition. Guido
Guirardi, president of the Party for Democracy, the other party in the co-
alition government, may have declared: ‘‘The Free Trade Agreement is
not worth a war.’’32 But whether Chile could afford an open ‘‘No’’ to the
United States remained another, agonizing matter.
From this point on, Chile’s unprotected situation mirrored Mexico’s.
On the one hand, the game with the United States was to intimate ‘‘No’’
without actually saying so for as long as possible. On the other, the rule
of the game was that neither government would form a proposal against
the United States.33
In keeping with its principles, Chile continued to hark on the theme of
multilateral consensus; in practice, it now had no position. Not only did
Chile now occupy the centre of the Security Council when the centre
could not hold; but, as diplomats also later admitted, both the United
States and France considered Chile to be on their side.34 It was in this
predicament that, within a matter of days, President Lagos revised his
own position and proposed the three-week extension for Blix’s weapons
inspectors. It was Chile’s polite way of saying ‘‘No’’ to the United
States.35 But it was also the moment when Chile broke, in practice if not
in principle, with its own multilateral good faith. Critically, the proposal
was made with no expectation of Mexican support. As its predicament
with the United States had deepened, so had Chile’s solidarity with
Mexico. Chile was intent on getting itself off the hook, not on putting
Mexico on it. In the gratefully acknowledging words of Ambassador
Zı́nser, ‘‘these are proposals from the government of Chile’’.36 The pro-
posal was withdrawn the same day it was made; already informed in
advance about its content, thanks to espionage, the United States was
prompt to express the offence it had taken.
The ‘‘what might have been’’ interest of this last-minute episode in the
Iraq crisis increases if one credits suggestions that the Chilean proposal
had a behind-the-scenes sponsor in UK Prime Minister Tony Blair.37
But if even such an actor was looking at that late stage for a way out of
the rupture between the United States and the United Nations, Chile by
now was an actor looking for its own exit.
After the Chilean failure, both the Chilean and Mexican ambassadors
were instructed by their governments to ‘‘forget about the word ‘con-
demn’. They could ‘lament’ as much as they liked the drift to war, but
condemn, no.’’38 Under Mexico’s presidency of the Council there was
no call for a cease-fire either. So ended the ‘‘revolt of the Latins’’.
The emotive words of Chile’s ambassador Gabriel Valdés for the ‘‘bit-
ter’’ experience were ‘‘grief’’ and ‘‘horror’’.39 But the equally unpalat-
able fact was that Chile, at the critical moment, had had to privilege a
Latin American perspective over a multilateral one. As it came to appre-
ciate Mexico’s vulnerability first-hand, so Chile backed off from joining
forces with it. Chile may have succeeded in delivering a ‘‘No’’ to the
United States, but only as a lone voice. That was as much as the hegem-
onic rules allowed. The United States was unable to secure legitimation
from the Security Council, but it was able to avoid a collective de-
legitimation.
Conclusion: A Latin lament
At the beginning of 2003 a Latin American dream appeared to come

true: through the UN Security Council the peripheral would become cen-
tral. Two of Latin America’s leading states would, in the words of Am-
bassador Zı́nser, ‘‘facilitate the reinvigoration and transformation of the
United Nations’’.40 For the diplomatic and political élite who took
Mexico into the Security Council, Mexico’s mixture of oligarchy with par-
ticipatory democracy was institutionally unsatisfactory. Transformation
was the deep Mexican ambition. Chile’s protagonism was more modestly
suited to multilateral reinvigoration.
If there was a Latin American script, it was no better expressed than
by the lost Latin American leader in the crisis, Jorge Castañeda:
You cannot on the one hand support multilateralism, the United Nations and in-
ternational law, and on the other refuse participation in the Council; you cannot
denounce US unilateralism and refuse to belong to the only mechanism which
can, perhaps only every so often, set limits to it.41
The story of Mexico and Chile’s participation in the Council is in many

ways the story of what went wrong with this script.
Before Iraq, ‘‘to be there or not to be there’’ might well have been the
nub of the Latin American soliloquy. The unfolding of the crisis itself
would also vindicate Castañeda’s premise that only Latin America’s lead-
ing states could be expected to test the limits of US hegemony and re-
store visibility to the continent. But, at the end of the crisis, the logic of
participation had been reversed: only those leading states that did not
participate in the Security Council were able openly to oppose the
United States.42
To the extent that its ambition was more quixotic, Mexico’s was the
greater failure. Having selected the Security Council as the site of a con-
flict it could not wage openly with the United States, Mexico found it had
landed in the one place where it could not say ‘‘No’’ to the United States.
Mexico was also an unlikely protector of a UN system it hoped in any
case to transform. Proceeding on the untenable assumption that the
United States was a greater threat to peace than Iraq, only reluctantly
did Mexico concede to the United Nations’ own resolution that Iraq
should be made to disarm. And only when it was back in the traditional
position of being a victim of the United States was Mexico comfortable.
Then, as it saw its history being repeated, it could speak for the world
order represented by the United Nations as a whole. Until then, Mexico
had no initiative with which to engage either the concerns of the United
States or the role of the United States in the UN world order. The ‘‘rogue
hegemon’’ was there only to be constrained. Mexico thus contributed to
the opposite of what it intended: a weakened Security Council. Not un-
justifiably, Mexico would also lose out to UN peace keeper Brazil as the
regional candidate for permanent membership of an expanded Council in
an EU-backed reform plan touted towards the end of 2004.
Chile’s diplomacy showed a more advanced appreciation of the argu-
ment presented by Thakur and Sidhu – that opposing multilateralism
against US unilateralism is a limited game. Chile’s opening stance con-
veyed institutional commitment to the United Nations without implying
that a UN world order needs to be an anti-US order. But Chile was un-
prepared either for the conflict between the UN and US world orders or
for its subsequent ramifications. Chile’s traditional defence of multilater-
alism could lead it only to a diplomatically empty position over Iraq. Per-
haps in recognition of this, the United States did not in the end veto the
Free Trade Agreement. While escaping a penalty for its lamentation,
Chile also returned to the original Latin American position in relation
to the United States.
On the surface, this position allows multilateralism to be defended in
principle against the United States. If multilateralism fails to constrain
the United States on one occasion, then it is neither the fault of the prin-
ciple nor for want of trying: better luck may be had next time. Yet, at a
deeper level, Chile’s experience also revealed some of the complexities
and complicities of the hegemonic game with the United States. The
United States cannot impose allegiance, but it can ensure that a ‘‘No’’
doesn’t translate into a veto. Within the bounds of the game, Mexico
was able to confront the United States without opposing it; Chile to op-
pose without confronting. Both were finally content to escape the conse-
quences of a ‘‘No’’ that really meant what it said.
The crisis over Iraq took this private dialogue of equivocation to the
limit without changing the fundamental hegemonic pattern of submissive
opposition or resistant acquiescence. A crisis over Cuba might be another
matter. Would thinking that ‘‘No’’ had been said to the United States,
even though it either had not really been said or had been said but had
not been heeded, suffice?
The dilemma of Latin America’s role in the world order has been
posed as one of participating or shutting up. To judge by the failures of
Mexico and Chile over Iraq, Latin America’s UN role in a crisis closer
to home would be one of participating, denouncing and shutting up –
inside the United Nations. The uncomfortable question begged as much
by the absence of Brazil from the Council in 2003 as by the presence of
Mexico and Chile is, ultimately, whether the United Nations is an alter-
native forum to a US world order in the twenty-first century.
Notes
1. Joseph Nye, The Paradox of American Power. Why the World’s Only Superpower Can’t
Go It Alone (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002).
2. Jorge Castañeda, ‘‘América Latina, ante una disyuntiva desgarradora’’, El Paı́s, 13
March 2003.
3. Enrique Krauze, ‘‘Los Estados Unidos: Un balance histórico’’, El Paı́s, 5 March 2003.
4. See Ana Marı́a Salazar, ‘‘Atentado terrorista en México?’’, Reforma, 30 April 2004.
5. Enrique Krauze, ‘‘Ecos de ‘pequeñas guerras’ ’’, El Paı́s, 10 April 2003.
6. Reforma, 6 March 2003.
7. El Paı́s, 21 February 2003.
9. The theme of Security Council reform, specifically a widening of the membership with a
right to the veto to ‘‘some countries important at a regional level’’, was taken up by En-
rique Berruga, Mexico’s under-secretary of foreign affairs (Reforma, 23 March 2003).
10. Reforma, 19 February 2003.
11. Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004), p. 344.
12. Unlike its NAFTA partner Canada, Mexico lacks any legal mechanisms to sanction the
use of force abroad. The lack in turn is one pointer to the continuity within Mexico’s
foreign policy after the transition to democracy. With Iraq, Mexico repeated its non-
interventionist stance over Kosovo, where the legitimacy of intervention was more
widely seen to outweigh the issues of legality.
13. In May 2004, new Foreign Minister Ernesto Derbrez would call Mexico’s refusal to par-
ticipate in UN peacekeeping operations hypocritical.
15. Ibid.
16. Castañeda was unwilling to share the role of protagonist with Mexico’s ambassador to
the United Nations, Adolfo Aguilar Zı́nser. Castañeda opposed Zı́nser’s nomination,
and would spend a year without speaking to him. See Jeffrey Davidow, El Oso y El
Puercoespı́n Testimonio de un embajado de Estados Unidos en México (Mexico: Edito-
rial Grijalbo, 2003). On the other hand, Castañeda’s connections with the Chilean polit-
ical and diplomatic élites were strong.
17. President Fox had literally read out the wrong script at the United Nations when he was
expected to present Mexico’s position on UN and Security Council reform. Interview
with ex-ambassador Aguilar Zı́nser, Mexico City, September 2004.
18. Reforma, 3 April 2003.
21. In an appearance before the Mexican Congress, 7 May 2004.
22. In late February, it was being reported that both Mexico and Chile were coming over to
the US side, that at the very least they had agreed with Bush not to say ‘‘No’’ too early
(El Paı́s, 27 February 2003).
23. El Universal, 26 March 2003.
24. From a Canadian perspective, Mexico’s behaviour in 2003 could well have evoked re-
cent memories of a Canada–Mexico alliance to pressure the United States to recognize
the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court, an alliance that Mexico at the last
minute ditched under US pressure. Interview with ex-ambassador Aguilar Zı́nser,
Mexico City, September 2004.
25. Chile’s adherence to the principle of non-intervention was given practical expression in
its displeasure at the arrest warrant issued against General Pinochet by Judge Baltasar
Garzón in 1998.
26. Or, more accurately, on its still incomplete transition to democracy. The post-transition
constitution prohibits elected officials from having a say on the military budget, which is
fixed at the level of the last year of the Pinochet government.
27. 7 March 2003, hhttp://www.un.int/chile/Discursos/disc20030307i.
28. 5 February 2003, hhttp://www.un.int/chile/Discursos/disc20030205i.
29. Ambassador Juan Gabriel Valdés, 29 January 2003, hhttp://www.un.int/chile/Discursos/
disc20030129i.
30. Interview with Ambassador Pedro Oyarce Yuraszeck, Director of Multilateral Policy,
Foreign Ministry, Santiago de Chile, May 2004. Blix co-authored the last-minute Chil-
ean proposal with President Lagos in March 2003.
31. See, for example, the reaction of Gabriel Valdés to the arrival of US special envoy Otto
Reich in Chile: ‘‘The indignity hurts. Chile can be a partner, not a lackey’’ (El Paı́s,
1 March 2003).
32. El Paı́s, 14 March 2003.
33. El Paı́s, 11 March 2003: ‘‘ ‘It’s one thing not to support the resolution of the United
States and another to promote an active group,’ admitted a [Chilean] source.’’
34. Interview with the Multilateral Policy team, Foreign Ministry, Santiago de Chile, May
2004. President Chirac directly requested an abstention from President Lagos, and com-
plained at the tone with which he was refused.
35. ‘‘Uff, you don’t know how hard it was,’’ Lagos is quoted as saying in ‘‘Aniversario de la
Invasión a Irak’’, El Mercurio, 21 March 2004.
37. Interviews carried out in Santiago de Chile, May 2004. Both Blair and Foreign Secretary
Jack Straw were prepared to travel to Chile (and to trade Straw’s credit over the arrest
of General Pinochet) to seek its support. They were also prepared to assist the United
States with its spying on Chile in the United Nations.
38. El Paı́s, 24 March 2003.
39. 19 March 2003, hhttp://www.un.int/chile/Discursos/disc20030319i.
40. 27 March 2003, hhttp://www.un.int/mexico/2003/interv_cs_032703.htmi.
41. Castañeda, ‘‘América Latina, ante una disyuntiva desgarradora’’.
42. Colombia joined the Central American Republics in supporting the US invasion; Bo-
livia, Ecuador and Uruguay remained ambiguous; Peru deplored it; Argentina and
Brazil opposed it. See FLASCO, Chile, ‘‘América Latina se divide frente a Iraq’’, 28
March 2003, hhttp://www.flasco.cl/flasco/main.php?page=noticia&code224i. Opposition
to the United States over Iraq was a factor in the concurrent electoral victory of Nestor
Kirschner over pro-US Carlos Menem in Argentina.
19
A Pakistani perspective
Hasan-Askari Rizvi
The Saddam Hussein era came to an end on 9 April 2003, when his statue
was toppled in Firdous square, Baghdad, soon after US troops moved
into the official sectors of the capital city. This was a moment of triumph
for the United States because it demonstrated that it had enough military
power and political determination to pursue its global agenda in the face
of strong diplomatic opposition.
The US-led war in Iraq (March–April 2003) can be described as an im-
portant turning point in international politics. It has such wide-ranging
implications for the international system that we may talk in terms of be-
fore and after the Iraq war. There are several major implications of the
Iraq war for the international system, especially for developing countries.
Major implications of the Iraq war
First, the United States has demonstrated its military primacy and out-
reach by conducting successful military operations in a distant country.
Though a large number of countries criticized the military operation or
questioned its legitimacy, hardly any state was willing or capable of mak-
ing even a symbolic countervailing military move in the region. This re-
flected the reality of power politics in the post–Cold War era, marked
by the military preponderance of the United States. It was not surprising
that many in official and non-official circles in the United States talked of
restructuring the Middle Eastern political arrangements to protect and
315
316 HASAN-ASKARI RIZVI
promote US interests. The United States kept up pressure on Syria and

Iran, two countries viewed as a threat to US interests in the region, dur-
ing and after the war. Iran had been declared to be one of the three
states labelled as the axis of evil in January 2002. During and after the
Iraq war, the United States warned Iran against any support for anti-US
elements in Iraq. Syria was accused of supplying some military equip-
ment (night vision goggles) and of providing a safe haven to Iraqi officials
in the course of the war.1 Later, Syria was blamed for allowing Islamic
militants to enter Iraq from its territory.2 These warnings were viewed
in the Middle East as a US attempt to expand the dividends from the suc-
cessful military operation in Iraq.
Second, the United States advocated ‘‘unilateralism’’ and ‘‘pre-emptive
military action’’ to counter the threats of terrorism and weapons of mass
destruction to US territory, citizens and interests. The use of such an ex-
panded notion of security by the US policy makers to justify their mili-
tary action against Iraq created a dangerous precedent. It amounted to
giving a licence to a militarily powerful state to pursue its political agenda
against a weaker state on the pretext that it feared a military or terrorist
attack from the latter. In a way, it justified the use of military power at
will against another state on the pretext of pre-empting a similar action
by the other side. This perturbed many states that had serious problems
with powerful neighbouring states in different parts of the world.
Third, the US military action in Iraq faced diplomatic opposition from
two members of the European Union (France and Germany) and Russia.
They were joined by China from time to time in opposing military action
in Iraq. These countries were opposed to the unilateral use of military
power by the United States and wanted UN channels to be used for ob-
taining the desired results. They also wanted to give more time to the UN
inspectors to locate weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.3 This was the
first major instance in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks of 11 Septem-
ber 2001 when the leading European states and Russia diverged publicly
from the United States on its policy on combating terrorism. This did not
mean that they supported Saddam Hussein; they objected to what they
viewed as a premature use of force against Iraq without authorization
from the United Nations. The leaders of France, Germany and Russia
who met in St Petersburg on 11–12 April 2003 demanded that the United
Nations should be actively involved in the management of post-Saddam
Iraq. This proposal has been repeated by these and other countries time
and again since then but the United States favoured a restricted role for
the United Nations in Iraq so that the primacy of its military presence
was not compromised.
Fourth, the Iraq war had two divergent implications for the United Na-
tions. On the one hand, it demonstrated the helplessness of the United
A PAKISTANI PERSPECTIVE 317
Nations because it was unable to restrain the United States from using
force against a member state without specific authorization by the UN
Security Council. The United States refused to wait for the UN inspec-
tors to complete their investigation of the presence or otherwise of
weapons of mass destruction in Iraq and launched an attack on Iraq,
which adversely affected the reputation of the United Nations.
Despite the US disregard for the United Nations, most other states
repeatedly emphasized the need to assign a central role to the United
Nations in Iraq. It was not merely France, Germany, Russia and China
that favoured a UN role during and after the Iraq war. A large number
of other states put their confidence in the United Nations and criticized
the United States for its unilateral use of massive force in Iraq. The de-
mand for a UN role gained momentum as resistance developed in Iraq.
One could therefore argue that the Iraq war and its aftermath had
conflicting implications for the United Nations. The United States mani-
fested an arrogance of power and bypassed the United Nations. Some of
its actions can be interpreted as defiance of the international body. How-
ever, the United Nations won greater international support and accept-
ability during and after the Iraq war. Though the US military action in
Iraq could not be moderated, the emphasis on a role for the United Na-
tions showed that most states continued to have confidence in the United
Nations.
The US emphasis on unilateralism and pre-emption perturbed the
smaller and weaker states, especially those that had problems with pow-
erful states. They felt that the US precedent could be used by other pow-
erful states to coerce weaker states into submission. Therefore, the small
and weak states viewed the UN system as a possible safeguard for them
against other powerful states that might decide to follow in the footsteps
of the United States in advancing their individual agendas. Most states
advocated that, in an Iraq-like situation, individual states should be
discouraged from taking unilateral decisions to use military force against
another state.
Why did the United States employ military power against

Iraq?
US military action in Iraq was shaped by several factors. These included

the policy makers’ perception of security threats in the aftermath of 9/11,
the power dynamics of the international system that enabled the United
States to make unchallenged use of military power, the political profile of
the Bush administration, and the divisions and disharmony in the Middle
East that enabled the United States to obtain the support of two neigh-
bours of Iraq, while other neighbours stayed aloof from the conduct of
the war.
The terrorist attacks on two important symbols of US economic and
military power on 9/11 shattered the Americans’ sense of security in the
post–Cold War era. There was a realization in the United States in the
pre-attack period that terrorism was on the rise in the international
system and often targeted US interests. However, the US policy makers
never visualized that such a massive operation could be carried out on its
mainland. The adversary was not a state but a transnational underground
group that could not be easily located.
The US administration adopted a host of stringent security measures
inside the country, some of which compromised the civil and political
rights and freedoms of ordinary people. The United States assigned the
highest priority to combating terrorism in its foreign policy and mobilized
international support through the United Nations and by direct interac-
tion with other states. The new US strategy of counter-terrorism focused
attention on all the states that had adversarial relations with the United
States as suspects for terrorism against the United States. Iraq was one
such country.
The 1990s brought many achievements to the United States at the in-
ternational level. In particular, 1990 witnessed the end of the Cold War
between the United States and the Soviet Union, which was tottering
under domestic political and economic pressures. In December 1991, the
Soviet Union breathed its last as a state; its constituent republics became
independent. Russia was recognized as the successor to the Soviet Union
but its leadership had neither the capability nor the determination to
pursue the Soviet agenda at the global level; it sought Western, albeit
US, support to put its economic house in order. The United States thus
did not face any credible countervailing military threat at the global
level and most analysts began to describe the United States as the sole
superpower.
Earlier, in January–February 1991, a US-led military coalition had ex-
pelled Iraqi troops from Kuwait, which they had occupied in August
1990. This demonstrated the United States’ ability successfully to employ
its military power to achieve political and military targets in a far away
place. It was against the backdrop of these two major events – i.e. the de-
mise of the Soviet Union and a successful military expedition in the Gulf
region – that the US President talked of a new world order, emphasizing
liberal democracy, civil and political rights, privatization and free trade,
non-proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, control of narcotics
trafficking, and counter-terrorism.
This strategy was revised after the terrorist incidents of 9/11, when the
highest priority was assigned to combating transnational terrorism. Coer-
cion and military force became the cutting-edge of US counter-terrorism

policy. President George W. Bush’s famous words when seeking the co-
operation of a number of world leaders after the terrorist attacks – ‘‘Are
you with us or against us?’’ – reflected the changed US disposition. This
recalled the peak days of the Cold War when US leaders thought that a
country would be supportive either of Western liberal democracy or of
the Soviet-led communist system. They did not recognize that a country
could maintain a distance from both positions and adopt a non-aligned
posture. In the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the US leadership
thought that a country friendly to the United States ought to be on board
with the United States for combating terrorism. The eradication of ter-
rorism and the denial of weapons of mass destruction to other states
were adopted as cardinal concerns by US policy makers.
The US President and his advisers represent the right wing of the po-
litical spectrum and are backed by religious conservatives and others who
think that the United States must assert its military primacy in the world.
They developed a security paranoia after the 9/11 terrorism incidents and
favoured a hard line towards all sources of terrorist threat. The absence
of any competing military power made it possible for the US leaders and
their supporters to adopt unilateral measures for the elimination of ter-
rorism. They were convinced that the United States had to take effective
measures to eliminate every kind of threat to US interests and restruc-
ture the world to its political preferences. Terrorism was viewed as the
most serious threat to US interests and global peace and economic stabil-
ity. Therefore, they argued that the United States should use all possible
means at its disposal to check the menace of terrorism. The military
action against the Taliban regime in Afghanistan (October–November
2001) had given confidence to US policy makers that they could success-
fully use their overwhelming military power and technological superiority
in a far-away country without being challenged by any state.
Political cleavages in the Middle East and the dependence of some of
the Gulf states on the United States contributed to the US decision to
undertake military operations against Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq.
Kuwait had suffered humiliation at the hands of Iraq in August 1990
when Iraq’s troops overran it. The US military coalition expelled Iraq’s
troops from Kuwait and restored its independence. Naturally, Kuwait
supported the use of overwhelming force against Iraq and offered the
necessary facilities to the United States. Qatar was another state that
actively supported the United States against Iraq. The US Central Com-
mand operated from Qatar. Saudi Arabia and Jordan adopted a cautious
approach towards the Iraq war. Although they wanted to protect their
cordial relations with the United States, they did not want to be seen to
be helping the US war effort in Iraq. Neither Jordan nor Saudi Arabia
trusted Saddam Hussein and they had a host of complaints against him.
But they did not want to be a party to the war against Iraq. Given such
a regional context, the US policy makers were rightly confident that they
would not face strong diplomatic opposition from the region and no
neighbouring state would be willing to offer credible military support to
Saddam Hussein.
The overwhelming use of military power enabled the United States to
dislodge Saddam Hussein from power. However, this success lacked dip-
lomatic support at the global level and the United States faced a lot of
criticism for undertaking unilateral military action and for totally disre-
garding the United Nations. The demand for an increased UN role in
Iraq grew as the US military encountered insurgency in parts of Iraq
within two months of capturing Baghdad. The insurgency intensified by
early 2004, which contributed to the US decision to assign a limited role
to the United Nations in Iraq. However, the United States jealously
guarded its military primacy in Iraq.
Pakistan and the Iraq war
The US-led war on Iraq created a difficult situation for Pakistan. Its
policy makers did not denounce the United States because they attached
importance to the reinvigorated Pakistan–US relations against the back-
drop of the global efforts to combat terrorism. However, they could not
publicly support the US invasion of Iraq, not only because domestic pub-
lic opinion was extremely critical of US military action but also because
the United States had disregarded the United Nations. Pakistan viewed
the US emphasis on unilateralism and pre-emptive action as guiding prin-
ciples for the war as a dangerous precedent. Expressing concern at the
outbreak of the war, Pakistan demanded that the war should be brought
to an end as soon as possible. However, it avoided public condemnation
of the US military action in Iraq.
Pakistan was a non-permanent member of the UN Security Council
during 2003–2004, which kept it actively involved with the UN-centred
diplomacy on the Iraq war. In the pre-war period, Pakistan emphasized
the need for a peaceful resolution of the Iraq problem and favoured giv-
ing more time to the UN inspectors to complete their assignment in Iraq.
The government of Pakistan maintained that ‘‘every effort should be ex-
hausted’’ for a peaceful resolution of the Iraq crisis,4 and that, if military
action became imperative, it should be ‘‘taken within the framework of
the United Nations’’.5 While outlining Pakistan’s policy on Iraq, Presi-
dent General Pervez Musharraf maintained that Pakistan believed in
‘‘the supremacy of the UN and [felt] that the Security Council [was] the
correct forum to take decisions’’.6 Addressing the National Assembly,

the lower house of the Pakistani parliament, Prime Minister Zafaullah
Khan Jamali said that Pakistan would not become a party to ‘‘any deci-
sion which leads to bloodshed in Iraq’’.7
The government of Pakistan ‘‘regretted’’ the outbreak of the war with-
out commenting on the US decision to initiate the war. However, the
leaders of public opinion, the major political parties (especially the Is-
lamic parties) and the media were very critical of the US decision to un-
dertake unilateral military action against Iraq. The non-official political
circles condemned the US-led attack on Iraq and most Islamic parties
expressed solidarity with Saddam Hussein.8 The Islamic parties staged
protest rallies and marches in different cities against the United States.
However, their protests did not catch on. Other political parties stayed
away from the agitation launched by the Islamic parties.
As domestic pressure mounted on the government of Pakistan to adopt
a more explicit position, the government adopted a firm position on the
war but continued to avoid harsh comments against the United States.
Pakistan’s foreign minister declared that his government ‘‘deplored’’ the
military action – which could be described as a mild criticism. Other
issues raised by the foreign minister included that (i) measures must be
adopted on a priority basis to avert a humanitarian disaster for the people
of Iraq; (ii) civilian casualties and infrastructure damage, especially to
civic services and religious/holy places, must be avoided; (iii) military
action should not be prolonged; (iv) the territorial integrity and sover-
eignty of Iraq and its rights over its natural resources must be preserved;
(v) the fundamental rights of the people of Iraq should be respected; (vi)
the UN Security Council must resume its primary responsibility under
the UN Charter for the maintenance of international peace and security.9
The government of Pakistan established contacts with the Organization
of the Islamic Conference (OIC) in order to adopt a shared approach on
the war in Iraq. However, the Arab members of the OIC were divided
on the issue and could not agree on a clear-cut and forthright stand.
Meanwhile, Pakistan demanded that the military operations should be
stopped at the earliest opportunity, and measures should be adopted to
reduce the hardships of the Iraqi people caused by the war. It also advo-
cated assigning primacy to the United Nations in Iraqi affairs.
Pakistan was perturbed by three major aspects of the Iraq war. First,
the United States launched the attack without any authorization from
the UN Security Council. Pakistan felt that Security Council Resolution
1441 did not authorize the United States unilaterally to launch an attack
to disarm Iraq. Pakistan maintained from the beginning of the Iraq crisis
that the United Nations should be assigned an active role and its inspec-
tors should be given time to complete their task of locating the weapons
of mass destruction in Iraq. Even after the end of the war, Pakistan
continued to urge that the matter should be handed over to the United
Nations,
The United States approached Pakistan to make its troops available
for support activities in post-war Iraq. This matter was taken up during
President Pervez Musharraf’s visit to the United States in June 2003. Pa-
kistan agreed in principle to make its troops available but it insisted on a
UN Security Council mandate or ‘‘an invitation from the people of Iraq’’
for any such assignment.10 President Musharraf declared in September
2003 that Pakistan would not send its troops to Iraq if that made them
an extension of the US occupation. He said that Pakistan would send its
troops to Iraq ‘‘when there [was] a request from the Iraqis, when he [felt
that] the troops would be welcomed, when there [were] other Muslim
troops participating in a multi-lateral force, and when there [was] a Secu-
rity Council resolution authorizing such a force’’.11
In July 2004, the appointment of a Pakistani diplomat, Jahangir Ashraf
Qazi, as the UN representative in Iraq triggered speculation that the
appointment was part of a deal that Pakistan would make its troops avail-
able for Iraq. UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan denied any such con-
nection. Meanwhile, Pakistan modified its earlier position on the supply
of troops by emphasizing three conditions: (1) Iraq’s interim government
should make a formal request for troops; (2) other Islamic countries
should commit their troops; (3) Pakistan’s parliament should approve
the dispatch of troops.12
Pakistan’s refusal to send troops to Iraq was partly caused by strong
domestic opposition to military involvement in Iraq. It was not just the
Islamic groups that opposed the deployment of Pakistani troops in Iraq;
most other political leaders and groups did not want to send troops to
Iraq as long as the United States maintained its control over Iraq. They
argued that Pakistani troops could not function in Iraq as an append-
age to US occupation troops there. The general consensus was that any
peacekeeping operation in Iraq should be undertaken under an appropri-
ate UN Security Council resolution.
Second, Pakistan was perturbed by the expansion of US goals in Iraq.
Initially, the United States described the main aim of its Iraq policy to
be the destruction of weapons of mass destruction. It was willing to
achieve this objective through the United Nations. Later, the United
States demanded the replacement of Saddam’s regime as a prerequisite
for destroying the weapons of mass destruction. It also began to talk
about deploying its troops in Iraq to achieve this objective. Subsequently,
the introduction of democracy was declared to be the goal in Iraq. This
implied the removal of Saddam’s regime from power and the installation
of a government that the United States considered to be democratic and
humane. US officials contacted Iraqi dissident elements based in the

United States, the United Kingdom and Europe to use their links in Iraq
to subvert Saddam’s regime. When this did not work, the United States
unilaterally resorted to military invasion.
For all practical purposes, the US policy makers manufactured the Iraq
war. The administration launched a major propaganda campaign against
Saddam’s regime by mixing facts with fiction. Unauthenticated data were
used by US officials to show that Saddam’s regime possessed weapons
of mass destruction. This propaganda isolated Iraq at the international
level, which made it easy for the United States to take military action
against Iraq.
Third, Pakistan’s policy makers felt that the US emphasis on unilater-
alism and pre-emptive strikes for tackling Iraq created a dangerous pre-
cedent that other powerful states might emulate to threaten weak states
in the neighbourhood. They might resort to military action against a
weak neighbouring state on the pretext of pre-empting a military attack
from the latter.
Pakistan did not have to wait long to encounter a threat of pre-emptive
military action. India’s foreign minister, Yashwant Sinha, described Paki-
stan as a ‘‘fit case’’ for an Iraq-type military action because it had weap-
ons of mass destruction, sheltered terrorists and lacked democracy. He
maintained that India had ‘‘a much better case to go for pre-emptive
action against Pakistan than the U.S. has in Iraq’’.13 Speaking in the Raj-
ya Sabha, the upper house of the Indian parliament, Sinha said, ‘‘If lack
of democracy, possession of weapons of mass destruction and export of
terrorism were reasons for a country to make pre-emptive strike in an-
other country, then Pakistan deserved to be tackled more than any other
country’’.14 Pakistan took exception to these statements and threatened
to respond with full force if India undertook military action. US Secre-
tary of State Colin Powell rejected the Indian remarks comparing Paki-
stan to Iraq and urged India and Pakistan to resolve their differences
peacefully.15 The British High Commissioner to India, Rob Young, also
rejected the comparison of Pakistan to Iraq.16
The United States and the United Kingdom rejected the Indian com-
parison of Pakistan to Iraq because Pakistan was an active partner in
global efforts to combat terrorism. Furthermore, they wanted to discour-
age other states from using unilateralism and pre-emptive strikes for ad-
vancing their political agendas. This was reassuring for Pakistan but its
leadership continued to take issue with unilateralism and pre-emptive
strikes as instruments of foreign policy.
Pakistan’s prime minister and finance minister met with senior Iraqi
officials (members of Iraq’s Governing Council, the trade minister and
the governor of Iraq’s central bank) in Saudi Arabia and Dubai in Au-
gust and September 2003. In December 2004, Iraq’s foreign minister,

Hoshyar Zebari, visited Islamabad to discuss bilateral and regional af-
fairs. Pakistan’s foreign minister declared in October 2003 that Pakistan
was committed to ‘‘Iraq’s territorial integrity and an early restoration of
sovereignty and political independence for the Iraqi people’’. Pakistan
condemned the truck-bomb attack on the UN headquarters in Baghdad
on 20 August 2003.17 It also condemned the reported mistreatment of
Iraqi prisoners by the coalition forces. Pakistan expressed ‘‘deep con-
cern’’ over the outbreak of violence in Najaf and Karbala in 2004 and de-
manded that the sanctity of the holy places in these cities be respected.18
Positive signs
Though the United States was able to achieve its immediate objectives in
Iraq by using overwhelming military power, it could not muster enough
diplomatic support to obtain widespread acceptability of its success. A
military success devoid of positive diplomatic backup does not offer en-
during political dividends. Astute diplomacy, multifaceted peaceful inter-
action and a mutuality of interests are no less important than military
power for playing a sustainable role at the global level. The US military
triumph suffered from a diplomatic deficit.
The United States was not able to get UN Security Council endorse-
ment for its decision to attack Iraq. France (a permanent member of the
Security Council) and Germany (a non-permanent member of the Secu-
rity Council) openly questioned the US impatience for military action.
This perspective was supported by Russia and China (permanent mem-
bers of the Security Council). The absence of the required diplomatic
support made it difficult for the United States to cope with the post-war
problems in Iraq. One inescapable conclusion is that, despite what hap-
pened in Iraq, the role of diplomacy has not become redundant in global
affairs.
Another interpretation of the diplomatic opposition to US policies in
Iraq is that a new ‘‘pole’’ is gradually emerging in global politics that
will transform the US-centric ‘‘unipolar’’ system into a ‘‘multipolar’’ sys-
tem in which Russia, France, Germany and China coordinate their poli-
cies to restrain the United States at the global level. This pole is expected
to enjoy the moral support of international public opinion that was re-
flected in the anti-war protests during the course of the Iraq war in sev-
eral countries, including the United States and the United Kingdom.
A large number of other states expressed varying degrees of reserva-
tion about or criticism of the US action in Iraq without the explicit sanc-
tion of the Security Council. This engendered the hope that, despite the
US policy of disregarding the United Nations, this international body will

continue to enjoy the confidence of a large number of states. The demand
by a large number of states that a more active role should be assigned to
the United Nations in Iraq shows that they view the United Nations as
relevant to maintaining and promoting peace and stability in the interna-
tional system.
It can be argued that the Iraq war had both positive and negative im-
plications for the United Nations. On the one hand, the Iraq war showed
the limits of the United Nations in performing its main task of preserving
peace and security. When a powerful state such as the United States de-
cides to defy the United Nations, it cannot be restrained in the short run.
On the other hand, the repeated calls by a large number of states for the
United Nations to be given an active role in Iraq show that the United
Nations has not become irrelevant. Many countries continue to have faith
in it and they would like to strengthen this organization. However, the
United Nations has to chart its course in the context of the exigencies of
power politics in the international system. These constraints pose a chal-
lenge to those who want to assign primacy to the United Nations and the
peaceful resolution of international disputes.
Diplomatic opposition and street demonstrations in a number of states
against the US attack on Iraq showed that the United States is not going
to get a free hand to manipulate the international system. For the first
time in the post–Cold War era, a clear divergence emerged between two
key European states and the United States. France and Germany contin-
ued to build pressure on the US policy in Iraq in the post-war period
(2003–2004), leading the United States to seek the cooperation of the
United Nations in creating new political arrangements in Iraq. UN Secu-
rity Council Resolution 1546 (8 June 2004) sanctioned the transfer of full
sovereignty to the new Iraqi Interim Government and formally brought
an end to Iraq’s military occupation. The Interim Government was to
work in collaboration with the US-led multinational military force, which
would help the Interim Government to maintain law and order.19 Ear-
lier, the UN Secretary-General’s representative, Lakhdar Brahimi, had
helped to set up the Interim Government.20 The United Nations helped
the Iraqi government to hold new elections in January 2005. The OIC
also endorsed the Interim Government at its meeting of foreign ministers
in Istanbul in June 2004.
This may well be the beginning of a new political trend at the global
level that may gradually transform the present-day unipolar world into a
multipolar international system, in which France, Germany, Russia and
China are expected to play a more active role, partly neutralizing the
edge the United States currently enjoys in the international system.
Much depends on the ability of Russia and China to overcome their in-
ternal economic problems, which would enable them to play a more

active role at the global level. Two other factors are likely to influence
the nature and direction of the international system in the future: first,
the way in which France and Germany play their role to assert their au-
tonomy in the international system; second, the dependence of their role
on their ability to mobilize support from other states.
The Iraq war has demonstrated US military primacy in the interna-
tional system. However, this does not necessarily mean that the United
States will be able to pursue its global agenda unilaterally all the time.
The restraining influence of other states and the problems the United
States has faced in Iraq and Afghanistan demonstrate the limits of mili-
tary power and underline the importance of diplomacy. The United
States needs the cooperation of other states for ensuring political stability
in Iraq and combating transnational terrorism in an effective manner.
Therefore, the United States may find it difficult to pursue its policy of
unilateralism and pre-emptive strikes indefinitely in the future. This real-
ization is expected to reintroduce realism into US foreign policy, which
would moderate the United States’ aggressive posturing as manifested in
Iraq. Diplomacy would be assigned priority over the use or the threat
of the use of force. This engenders hope for an active UN role in global
politics. However, the recurrence of the negative implications of power
politics cannot be totally discounted.
Notes
1. Asia Times, 31 July 2003.

2. Gulf News, 6 November 2003.
3. See Patrick E. Tyler, ‘‘A Fissure Deepening for Allies over Use of Force against Iraq’’,
New York Times, 6 March 2003; Thom Shanker, ‘‘Rumsfeld Rebukes UN and NATO
on Approach to Baghdad’’, New York Times, 9 February 2003.
4. See the statement by Pakistan’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations:
Dawn (Karachi), 15 February 2003.
5. See the statement by the prime minister of Pakistan: News (Lahore), 31 January 2003.
In a statement in Kuwait City, Pakistan’s prime minister maintained that he wanted a
peaceful resolution of the Iraq problem ‘‘without a shot from the gun’’. He said that
Pakistan supported Kuwait when Iraq captured it in 1990. However, Pakistan did not
want to see Iraq destroyed and the miseries of its people (Dawn, 28 January 2003).
6. Daily Times (Lahore), 9 February 2003; see also Dawn, 15 February 2003.
7. Dawn, 11 March 2003.
8. A traders’ group that supported the Islamic parties announced a boycott of US and UK
goods in protest against the war on Iraq (News, 1 April 2003). This move did not catch
on and the appeal for a boycott proved completely ineffective.
9. See Hasan-Askari Rizvi, ‘‘Pakistan’s Principled Stand on Iraq?’’, Daily Times, 24 March
2003.
10. See the statement by the Spokesperson of Pakistan’s Foreign Office: Daily Times, 22
July 2003; see also Dawn, 9 July 2003; Ijaz Hussain, ‘‘Should We Send Troops to Iraq?’’,
Daily Times, 9 July 2003.
11. Dawn, 27 September 2003.
12. Farhan Bokhari, ‘‘Troops for Iraq’’, News, 5 August 2004; see also Daily Times, 25 July
2004; and the editorial entitled ‘‘Troops for Iraq’’, Dawn, 26 July 2004.
13. Khaleej Times, 7 April 2003; see also Gulf News, 4 April 2003.
14. Hindu, 10 April 2003.
15. Gulf News, 11 April 2003.
16. News, 7 April 2004.
17. Dawn, 21 August 2003.
18. Dawn, 14 August 2004.
19. Nation (Lahore), 9 June 2004.
20. Warren Hoge, ‘‘UN Chief Says Iraq Elections Could Be Held within a Year’’, New York
Times, 24 February 2004. See also Warren Hoge and Steven R. Weisman, ‘‘Surprising
Choice for Premier of Iraq Reflects U.S. Influence’’, New York Times, 29 May 2004.
The new Iraqi Interim Government was installed on 28 June 2004.
20
A perspective on
NATO’s relevance
Fred Tanner
Introduction
It is undeniable that the transatlantic dispute over the war in Iraq has al-
tered the horizons of international relations. It has changed the relation-
ship amongst the most powerful countries and between these countries
and the United Nations. By challenging some of the most fundamental
precepts of international law, the conflict itself has had a serious and far-
reaching impact on the ‘‘world order’’, the full implications of which
probably still remain to be thought through.1
The North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) did not play any es-
sential role in the US-led war on Iraq. Nor did it play a role in the US
retaliation against the Taliban-controlled Afghanistan. Thus, the ques-
tion arises of how relevant NATO will be as an international security
institution in the twenty-first century and what its standing will be in the
post-Iraq world order. With the disappearance of the Soviet Union and,
thereby, of collective defence as NATO’s main ‘‘raison d’être’’, the At-
lantic Alliance has been looking during the past 15 years for new roles
and missions. NATO continues to be relevant through its expansion east-
wards. Its membership during the Cold War of 15 grew in 1999 to 19
members to include Central European states and then in 2004 to 26
members to include, among others, the Baltic states, formerly part of the
Soviet Union.
Today the United States is the only superpower and Europe is no
328
A PERSPECTIVE ON NATO’S RELEVANCE 329
longer one of its major strategic concerns. The Atlantic Alliance is a pri-
mary ‘‘victim’’ of this development. The 2002 National Security Strategy
of the United States of America elevates the defeat of ‘‘global terrorism’’
to the top US security policy priority. Within this rationale, the United
States would accept an ongoing commitment to NATO only if it is ‘‘able
to act wherever our interests are threatened’’.2
Europe, in contrast, is preoccupied with the consolidation of its en-
larged Union, which encompasses an additional population of 100 million
stretching from the Baltic sea to Central Europe, the Mediterranean
and soon also to the Eastern Balkans. It tries to deal with its unstable
neighbourhood with partnership-building in the political, economic, de-
velopment and ‘‘soft security’’ domains. The European Union has also
developed a security policy and is trying to give some depth and military
operations capabilities to its European Security and Defence Policy
(ESDP).
In order to explore various perspectives of where NATO is heading,
and what kinds of role and mission it will be able to play in a US-centric
world order, I shall first discuss the spectre of irrelevance on the one
hand and the transatlantic dispute over Iraq on the other. I shall then ex-
amine where NATO could add value to the world community’s quest for
peace and security.
The spectre of irrelevance and Iraq
A spectre is haunting NATO, not the spectre of peace but the spectre of
irrelevance. The terrorist attacks on the heartland of America and the
military interventions in Afghanistan and Iraq have demonstrated to the
Atlantic Alliance the considerable problems in finding a consensus on
collective security. The United States is not prepared to fight its wars
through NATO any more. At the same time, the Iraq war has triggered
profound intra-Alliance disagreements on topics such as the role of the
use of force, international law and multilateral engagements.
The spectre of irrelevance
During the Cold War, the Atlantic Alliance was the basic instrument of
the West to ‘‘keep the Russians out, the Americans in, and the Germans
down’’.3 All of these objectives are obsolete today. Russia is in a process
of profound transformation and has neither an interest nor the power any
more to threaten the ‘‘West’’. Germany has become a ‘‘normal’’ country,
is deeply integrated into European Union structures and will face eco-
330 FRED TANNER
nomic problems for many years to come. Finally, the United States is
withdrawing most of its forces from Europe because the Euro-Atlantic
area has lost its strategic relevance to the United States.
The transatlantic security relationship today is too diverse and too
extensive for NATO to handle. Global issues such as the fight against
terrorism, the relationship with Russia and China or issue areas related
to the Middle East, including Iraq and Israel/Palestine, are not compre-
hensively dealt with in NATO. Here other mechanisms such as the G-8,
US–European summits or bilateral relations with the United States are
more in demand than NATO.
This reduced role for NATO in international security affairs contrasts
with its role in the 1990s, when it found a key mission in the Balkans to
manage and finally overcome the successive wars in the former Yugosla-
via. NATO’s intervention in Kosovo – the first war NATO had fought in
its 50-year history – left two footprints on NATO as a regional and inter-
national security institution, footprints that continue to have serious con-
sequences for NATO’s future. First, NATO used force against Serbia
without UN Security Council authorization. The ensuing legitimacy issue
tarnished NATO’s reputation, irrespective of the ‘‘retroactive’’ UN Secu-
rity Council Resolution 1244 (1999).4 Second, the NATO bombardment
of Serbian forces in Kosovo and throughout Serbia demonstrated the in-
effectiveness of a war conducted ‘‘by committee’’. The military operation
was subject to the consensus of all 19 member states and, according to
General Wesley Clark, who was in charge of the operation, ‘‘each bomb
dropped represented a target that had been approved, at least in theory,
by each of the alliance’s 19 governments’’.5
After the Yugoslav wars, the United States and Europe began drifting
apart for a number of reasons. The strategic convergence of the post–
Cold War era had come to an end: Europe was focusing on its wider
neighbourhood, whereas the United States was concentrating on global
strategic questions. This drifting apart was accelerated by the Bush ad-
ministration’s neoconservative agenda, which emphasized the use of mil-
itary force abroad. For Europeans, the constants and imperatives in their
international conduct are the construction of a liberal and civil European
model, multilateralism and international law. For the United States, in
contrast, ‘‘support for universal rules of behaviour really is a matter of
idealism’’.6
With the terrorist attacks on the United States of 11 September 2001
NATO invoked for the first time in its history the collective defence
clause – Article 5 of the Washington Treaty – but not much happened as
a consequence of this ‘‘historic event’’. Formally, the United States
acknowledged that NATO’s invocation of Article 5 demonstrated ‘‘the
commitment of America’s partners to collective defence, which bolsters
the security of the United States’’.7 In practice, however, the United

States did not call on NATO for its military campaign against the Taliban.
Broadly speaking, the Europeans continued to look to the Alliance for
a ‘‘common strategy’’ and for help in modernizing their collective mili-
tary capabilities whereas the Bush administration considered NATO
more as a ‘‘toolbox’’ or a ‘‘coalition generator’’ than as a security actor
in its own right. The military relevance of NATO to US policy makers
in the aftermath of 9/11 and the unilateral US war against the Taliban
has been reduced to what US Defense Secretary Rumsfeld called the
‘‘mission makes the coalition’’. This means that ‘‘mission performance’’
will determine the extent to which US policy makers call on the Atlantic
Alliance.
In view of these developments, NATO as a collective defence organi-
zation will have to bank on remote scenarios of ‘‘traditional threats’’ such
as the re-emergence of potential aggression on the massive scale of a
country or an alliance against NATO countries. The notion of collective
defence has, however, gained more currency with the 2004 NATO en-
largement, as several of the seven new member states are bordering
zones of instability.8
Outside the defence realm, NATO will be in much higher demand for
international crisis management and peace missions. As this study will
show, in these areas NATO may find a new lease of life in the post-Iraq
world order. Here, the relevance of a ‘‘transformed’’ NATO will depend
more on its ability to act as a coalition generator and with rapid engage-
ment in response to the United Nations’ increasing demand for robust
peace operations.
Iraq and the transatlantic dispute: Profiling the perspectives
Fundamental differences between the ways in which various NATO mem-

bers perceive the Alliance have also affected the debate around Iraq.
NATO as an institution did not remain immune from the major shifts on
the world scene. Transatlantic relations were seriously damaged by the
dispute over Iraq, and NATO was one of the main victims. As Ronald
Asmus succinctly put it, ‘‘somewhere between Kabul and Iraq’’ the
United States and Europe ‘‘lost each other’’.9
The United States, supported by the United Kingdom, Italy and ini-
tially also Spain, favoured the immediate inception of hostilities against
Iraq as a means to forcibly ‘‘disarm’’ the country of its alleged weapons
of mass destruction. Meanwhile France, Belgium and Germany, sup-
ported by Russia and less vocally by China, opposed immediate military
action, instead calling for the continuation of inspections by UN weapons
inspectors. Numerous Central and East European countries, notably Bul-
332 FRED TANNER
garia, Poland and Romania, also supported the US position – these coun-
tries have subsequently become NATO members. These dramatic events
were played out in the UN Security Council, the international media and
national capitals, against a backdrop of massive anti-war demonstrations,
running to millions of people, on almost every continent.
Therefore, there was no shared NATO position on Iraq at any stage
during the crisis. NATO’s paralysis almost turned lethal with the short
but intense controversy over Turkey’s request for NATO’s assistance in
strengthening Turkey’s defensive capabilities against potential retaliatory
attacks by Iraq in the event of a US attack. The failure of NATO to sup-
port Turkey with defensive means has led to widespread warnings of
‘‘The End of NATO’’.10 In fact, Belgium, in the name of three European
NATO countries, vetoed the deployment of AWACS reconnaissance
planes and Patriot anti-missile batteries to Turkey. Turkey had appealed
to its allies for help under NATO Article 4, fearing an Iraqi attack as a
response to the impending US-led invasion against Saddam Hussein’s re-
gime. France, Germany and Belgium opposed Turkey’s request because
they felt that their support – before the adoption of an enabling UN
resolution – would legitimize unilateral US pre-emption in Iraq.11
The positions of the NATO members with regard to Iraq largely re-
mained defined in relation to the United States. Poland and the United
Kingdom played a significant role in Iraq.12 France and Germany, in con-
trast, insisted on an enhanced role for the United Nations.13 Moreover,
France made the point that NATO was ‘‘simply not the right place’’
for decisions on Iraq once sovereignty was returned by its occupying
powers.14 The German government expressed concern that NATO in-
volvement in Iraq would overstretch troops and resources, given that
commitments already exist in Afghanistan, in Kosovo and for fighting
‘‘terrorism’’. The conflicting perspectives of NATO countries were only
superficially addressed at the Istanbul NATO Summit in June 2004.
NATO’s main deficit remains the lack of a shared strategic vision among
all partners.
Visions, transformation and capabilities
The new ‘‘threats agenda’’ and Iraq have presented an enormous chal-
lenge to NATO because it does not have the capability to cope with a
plethora of security problems in transatlantic relations and globally. In
this section I shall discuss the difficulties of finding strategic convergence
in threat assessments and identify areas where NATO may be able to
preserve its relevance in international security.
In search of a shared strategic vision
The debates about the desirability of NATO’s involvement in Iraq reveal

and underline some of the deep-seated challenges that NATO itself is
facing. These concern not just short-term strategic or political choices
about particular conflicts, but rather a long-term definitional problem re-
lating to NATO’s own identity and purpose in the twenty-first century.
NATO’s 1999 ‘‘Strategic Concept’’ began the transformation of NATO
in response to a new threats agenda that included ‘‘complex new risks to
Euro-Atlantic peace and stability’’.15 The 2002 Prague NATO Summit
confirmed and updated the new threats paradigm under the profound in-
fluence of the terrorist attacks of 9/11.
As a result of 9/11 and the US strikes against the Taliban, NATO has
been solicited to engage in peacebuilding operations in Afghanistan.
NATO’s involvement in Afghanistan lies outside the ‘‘traditional’’ area
of operations. In this sense, it may seem that NATO is searching in a
rather haphazard manner for a new identity to replace its previous role.
For any new policy direction to be meaningful, the Alliance must agree
on a shared strategic vision.
With regard to ‘‘roles and missions’’, NATO is still an organization
that can muster forces, command and control, a robust deployment and
resources for sustained action. In search of a new strategic vision, the
NATO Secretary General highlighted NATO’s ‘‘ability to conduct robust
military operations’’ as a unique feature of this organization.16 President
Bush’s vision of NATO’s twenty-first-century responsibilities, in contrast,
is about ‘‘fighting terrorism and promoting democratic values’’.17 These
visions are not necessarily incompatible, but they both rest outside the
realm of collective defence, which formally still represents the constituent
mandate of NATO.
From a geographical or regional perspective, the new security environ-
ment obliges NATO to think and act well beyond its traditional Euro-
Atlantic area. In fact, the 2004 Istanbul Summit clearly demonstrated
that henceforth NATO will embrace a global agenda. With the latest en-
largement of NATO in 2004, the Cold War ‘‘Eastern border’’ has all but
disappeared. NATO now considers the Caucasus and Central Asia as
regions of ‘‘special focus’’. In this spirit, the NATO Secretary General
appointed Robert Simmons to the position of the Secretary General’s
Special Representative for the Caucasus and Central Asia in September
2004.
At the same time, the United States has been pushing for NATO to get
involved in the Middle East, both militarily and in terms of partnership-
building. The former US ambassador to NATO, Nicholas Burns, argued
334 FRED TANNER
that NATO’s mandate to defend Europe and North America can be

achieved only by deploying ‘‘our conceptual attention and our military
forces east and south. NATO’s future, we believe is east and is south.
It’s in the Greater Middle East.’’18 The NATO Secretary General too
sees NATO’s regional orientation moving towards the Middle East. At
the 2005 Munich Security Conference he intimated that NATO could as-
sume a peacekeeping or stabilization role ‘‘in supporting a Middle East
peace agreement’’.19
Finally, NATO’s involvement in Afghanistan has become the litmus
test of the organization’s post-9/11 credibility. Its involvement did not be-
gin very well because NATO proved unable to muster sufficient forces.
When it tried to send more troops to Afghanistan, European countries
failed to comply because their deployable forces had already been com-
mitted to missions in the Balkans, Côte d’Ivoire and elsewhere. A failure
in Afghanistan would lead to another profound crisis for NATO and
would also seriously affect global security in the long term.
The fight against terrorism and weapons of mass destruction
NATO has only limited capabilities to serve as a transatlantic forum in

the fight against terrorism. NATO forces cannot deter terrorism. Further-
more, counter-terrorist activities such as homeland defence, the protec-
tion of critical infrastructures and law enforcement are not in NATO’s
domain. Here the European Union is of more relevance. But NATO
could usefully serve as a conduit for transatlantic security cooperation
on the military aspects of the fight against terrorism, which now is called
‘‘consequence management’’. This is why EU–NATO cooperation in
counter-terrorism and counter-proliferation will be particularly impor-
tant.20 General Wesley Clark went even further and argued that ‘‘full
cooperation in the fight against terrorism is unlikely without an overall
consensus-building mechanism, like NATO, to drive the process’’.21
The ‘‘Partnership Action Plan against Terrorism’’, launched at the
NATO Prague Summit in November 2002, represents a normative frame-
work for NATO allies and member states of the Euro-Atlantic Partner-
ship Council (EAPC) to ‘‘co-operate across a spectrum of areas . . . that
have relevance to the fight against terrorism’’.22 At the Istanbul Summit,
NATO countries followed up with the statement that their ‘‘approach
to terrorism, and its causes, will include the full implementation of the
United Nations Security Council Resolution 1373 on the fight against
terrorism, and will continue to be multi-faceted and comprehensive, in-
cluding political, diplomatic, economic and, where necessary, military
means’’.23
NATO can also hedge against asymmetrical attacks under the legal
cover of the collective defence clause. For instance, ‘‘Operation Active

Endeavour’’, which was launched in the Mediterranean after 9/11, is still
considered an operation under Article 5 of the Washington Treaty. The
task force includes hundreds of NATO vessels patrolling throughout
the Mediterranean Sea, monitoring ships and helping to detect, deter
and protect against terrorist activity. Active Endeavour’s tasks include
intelligence-gathering and the security and safety of non-combatant ship-
ping. In addition, NATO naval forces escort allied non-combatant ships
in transit through the Straits of Gibraltar. In a significant move reflecting
the broad convergence in the fight against terrorism, Russia and Ukraine
announced at the Istanbul Summit that they would contribute maritime
assets to Operation Active Endeavour.
In areas related to asymmetrical threats, NATO is called upon to
play an increasingly important role, particularly when it comes to rapid
intervention against terrorists, the use of weapons of mass destruction
(WMD) and consequence management. The key for NATO is to make
its NATO Reaction Force fully operational and to work together with
other institutions such as the European Union or the United Nations.
With regard to the fight against the spread of WMD, NATO countries
agreed at the Istanbul Summit to ‘‘consider addressing, in accordance
with international law, the risk of terrorist-related trafficking in, or use
of, nuclear, chemical and biological weapons, their means of delivery
and related materials’’.24 Moreover, NATO formally endorsed the US-
led Proliferation Security Initiative (PSI), which focuses on the interdic-
tion of proliferation shipments of WMD, delivery systems and related
materials at sea, in the air or on land.25
However, PSI is yet another typical security initiative that has been
launched outside the NATO framework on the assumption that an ad
hoc coalition of the willing can implement effective measures against
WMD proliferation. For instance, the interception of a shipment of cen-
trifuge parts for uranium enrichment bound for Libya was a joint venture
between the United States, the United Kingdom, Italy and Germany. At
the same time, NATO and its Operation Active Endeavour were pres-
sured by the US and other NATO governments to subscribe to the PSI
principles.
‘‘Soft power’’ projection and the promotion of democracy
The uniqueness of NATO is its ability to combine robust, military opera-

tions with soft power to assist countries in the reform of their security
and defence sectors. The notion of soft power includes a large spectrum
of cooperative activities that engage partner states in interoperability, se-
curity governance, defence reforms, defence education, the fight against
336 FRED TANNER
small arms and light weapons and other activities in the area of civil–
military partnership-building. Institutional frameworks for soft security
cooperation include the Partnership for Peace and the Mediterranean Di-
alogue, which was elevated at the Istanbul Summit to a ‘‘Partnership’’.
The launching of a Partnership Action Plan on Defence Institution Build-
ing (PAP-DIB), intended primarily for Central Asian partners, belongs
to this category.
These areas of activity are becoming ever more important to NATO,
particularly with regard to the increasing efforts to promote governance
and democratic reform in countries adjacent to the Alliance. In a speech
to a Ukrainian audience, the NATO Secretary General defined NATO
as ‘‘an organisation that protects the values that underlie our societies:
Freedom of speech, democratic participation, human rights and the rule
of law’’.26 However, democracy promotion is an activity that encounters
important competition from other international organizations, notably
the European Union, the Organization for Security and Co-operation in
Europe (OSCE) and the United Nations. NATO’s Membership Action
Plan (MAP) has also acquired the status of a normative reference for
countries outside the enlarged NATO, particularly for Ukraine, countries
in the Balkans and possibly also countries in the Caucasus and Central
Asia.27
NATO, its Partnership for Peace (PfP) and the EAPC remain indis-
pensable forums for the promotion of interoperability, standardization
and mission management, not just for NATO operations but also for
EU missions and possibly also for future UN missions. NATO has also
created institutional arrangements for bilateral consultations with Russia
and Ukraine. The 2002 NATO–Russia Council followed on from earlier
attempts in the 1990s to institutionalize relations between the former en-
emies. The Council allows Russia to interact with NATO on a one-to-one
basis on security issues ranging from counter-terrorism to conflict man-
agement in areas of mutual interest. This institutional interface is increas-
ingly competing with the OSCE, which sees itself as the guardian of com-
prehensive security in the Euro-Atlantic and Eurasian regions.
At the Istanbul Summit, NATO agreed on three ‘‘soft power’’ initia-
tives in order to assume a greater presence in the Mediterranean and
the Middle East. The first was an effort – which falls far short of a
‘‘Greater Middle East Initiative’’ – to deepen the existing NATO Medi-
terranean Dialogue with seven countries in North Africa and the Middle
East and to transform it into a genuine Partnership. It is not yet clear
what the ‘‘deepening’’ should entail, particularly in view of the sombre
mood of some Arab states regarding the US occupation of Iraq. For-
mally, the objectives of the Partnership are dialogue, interoperability,
defence reform and the fight against terrorism.
The second was the ‘‘Istanbul Cooperation Initiative’’. With this initia-
tive NATO reached out for the first time to countries of the Middle East
and the Gulf states (‘‘the broader Middle East region’’). The objective
was ‘‘to develop the ability of countries’ forces to operate with those of
the Alliance including by contributing to NATO-led operations, fight
against terrorism, stem the flow of WMD materials and illegal trafficking
in arms, and improve countries’ capabilities to address common chal-
lenges and threats with NATO’’.28
NATO’s third offer was to train the new Iraqi army. At the 2004 G-8
Summit at Sea Island, France opposed any NATO commitment that
would endorse the military presence of US forces in Iraq. It continued
to stonewall progress of the NATO Training Implementation Mission in
Iraq (NTIM-I) by opposing the creation of a NATO training academy in
Iraq. France argued that its costs should be covered only by those NATO
allies that are part of the US-led coalition.29
Human trafficking is the latest initiative that NATO is trying to assume
as part of its new policy orientation towards soft power and human secu-
rity. The initiative aspires to provide normative guidance to NATO-led
personnel, both civilian (including police) and military. The proposed
guidelines would include the existing UN Protocol to Prevent, Suppress
and Punish Trafficking in Persons, especially Women and Children.30
The United States and Norway proposed this initiative, which was ap-
proved by the North Atlantic Council on 9 June 2004 and by all 46
members of the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council on 16 June 2004. The
comparative advantage of NATO’s launching this kind of initiative is to
carry it from its conceptual origins within the North Atlantic Council to
the legitimacy of the 46-state platform of the EAPC, then to insert it in
the curriculums of their defence colleges and peacekeeping centres, and
finally to implement it in NATO-led field operations.
Crisis management and peace operations
After more than 40 years of pursuing the single objective of collective

defence, at the 1991 Rome Summit NATO turned its attention to crisis
management and peacekeeping. A new chapter of NATO’s history began
with the deployment of NATO forces in Bosnia and Herzegovina in
1995. The rise of complex emergencies, humanitarian disasters and state
failure has led today to the involvement of a multitude of organizations
that are trying to reassert their mandates and relevance by addressing
such challenges. NATO is attempting to find its niche in the global de-
mand for reconstruction and stabilization.
According to Carl Bildt, the former UN Secretary-General’s Special
Envoy for the Balkans, NATO is ‘‘developing into a somewhat more ro-
bust equivalent of the UN’s peace-keeping operations department’’.31
Currently, NATO is subcontracted by the United Nations for peace mis-
338 FRED TANNER
sions in the Balkans (the Kosovo Force, KFOR) and in Afghanistan (the
International Security Assistance Force, ISAF). NATO’s operations in
both cases are ‘‘robust’’, i.e. the mission spectrum ranges from peace-
keeping to the threat and the use of coercive measures against spoilers.
KFOR and ISAF have shown that NATO is capable of conflict pre-
vention, robust peace operations and peacebuilding. NATO can project
forces for long-term stability operations and it can provide the planning,
force generation and mission-intensity continuum of operations in com-
plex emergencies and peace operations. In Afghanistan, NATO has also
embraced a new model of civil–military cooperation with the Provincial
Reconstruction Teams.
Without a secure environment, serious state-building efforts have no
chance of success. For instance, only NATO was able to provide security
guarantees to Macedonians and Albanians in the wake of the Ohrid
Framework Agreement in Macedonia in 2001. Operations ‘‘Essential
Harvest’’ and ‘‘Amber Fox’’ were key to the disarmament and stabiliza-
tion measures taken in that fragile country. Even though the European
Union replaced NATO in Macedonia and also in Bosnia, the Atlantic
Alliance is the only organization that could intervene effectively in the
region should a deadly conflict break out again. Thus, the need for an in-
direct NATO presence in the area will remain until the countries of the
region have integrated into both NATO and the European Union.
Future demand for peace operations will depend very much on NATO’s
performance in Afghanistan. The Istanbul Summit confirmed that Af-
ghanistan will remain the priority. However, the inability of NATO to
raise sufficient troops and resources to contribute in a meaningful way
to the country’s stabilization, especially in provincial regions, means that
the Afghan situation is likely to receive members’ main attention for
some time to come.32 More demand for peace operations will most likely
come to the United Nations for robust missions in Africa. NATO Secre-
tary General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer stresses NATO’s relevance for the
United Nations also in the context of the United Nations’ current re-
form efforts and the recommendations of the UN Secretary-General’s
Report of the High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change: ‘‘As
the United Nations looks at how to implement the panel’s recommenda-
tions, I am convinced that NATO, with its unparalleled experience and
expertise, will feature high up on the United Nations’ list of preferred
suppliers.’’33
NATO’s effectiveness in the twenty-first century: Capabilities and

‘‘institutional interoperability’’
If Europe intends to keep NATO relevant, it has to make credible com-

mitments to spend more on defence and to modernize and transform its
forces for missions across the conflict spectrum. NATO’s future capabil-
ities will depend on several factors. First, the deployability of forces needs
to be increased. Of 1.5 million soldiers theoretically available from Euro-
pean member states for NATO operations, fewer than 100,000 can actu-
ally be deployed. At the 2002 Transformation Summit in Prague, NATO
leaders unanimously agreed to the creation of a NATO Response Force
– a fully interoperable and integrated high-readiness capability, able to
act as ‘‘the first boots on the ground’’ in the Alliance’s full conflict spec-
trum. This force should be ready for deployment in the autumn of 2006.
In order to increase the general deployability of NATO forces, the mem-
ber states agreed at the Istanbul Summit to make 40 per cent of their
troops deployable on Alliance operations and 8 per cent instantly deploy-
able.34 Second, Europeans have to spend more on defence. European
countries in NATO spend about one-third as much on defence as the
United States. Third, NATO members have to rethink the organization
of their national armed forces. Countries such as Germany still maintain
a conscript system that puts political and practical constraints on sustain-
able force deployments. Fourth, future NATO capabilities depend on the
relationship with the European Union and vice versa. NATO will not be
able to achieve its capability objectives if the European Union increases
its demand for autonomously deployable forces within its European Se-
curity and Defence Policy (ESDP) and the ‘‘battlegroup’’ concept. In re-
cent years, the European Union has been using civilian and military
ESDP contingents in Bosnia, Macedonia and the Congo.
The effectiveness of NATO in the twenty-first century will also depend
on its working relations with other institutions involved in crisis manage-
ment. The relationship with the United Nations will be a key for NATO’s
future. NATO could assume the function of a resource organization for
the United Nations around the globe. NATO could also be used as a
framework at the military level for integrating non-NATO countries in
robust peacekeeping missions that would rely on NATO rules of engage-
ment and command and control. The legal basis for this practice was
established by UN Security Council Resolution 1244, annex 2 (10 June
1999). The Istanbul Summit confirmed this NATO objective by encour-
aging the new partner states from the Middle East and the Gulf states to
an ‘‘additional participation . . . in NATO-led peace-support operations
on a case-by-case basis’’.
NATO could also assume a lead role in the context of the G-8 Action
Plan for Expanding Global Capacity for Peace Support Operations. The
programme calls for providing ‘‘interoperability training for peace opera-
tions, combating organised crime and border control and to improve the
UN ability to provide peace and stabilities through chapter VII opera-
tions’’.35 In order make better preparations for its cooperation with the
United Nations, NATO is participating in bi-annual high-level meetings
340 FRED TANNER
of regional and intergovernmental organizations organized by the United

Nations.
The key institutional partnership remains, however, between NATO
and the European Union. The European Union has growing ambitions
in the area of crisis management in and around Europe: ‘‘With new
threats’’, declares the European Security Strategy of December 2003,
‘‘. . . the first line of defence will often be abroad.’’36 The EU–NATO
partnership should be based on the principle of complementarity, but
it ‘‘is too often mired in the political mud of contemporary transatlantic
relations from which it can never be divorced’’.37 There are, however,
permanent arrangements between the European Union and NATO that
work well, in particular Berlin Plus, and they provide the framework for
the strategic partnership between the organizations in crisis manage-
ment.38 The establishment of a small European Union cell at SHAPE
(Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe) and of NATO liaison ar-
rangements at the EU military staff will improve the preparation of EU
operations that have recourse to NATO assets and capabilities under
the Berlin Plus arrangements.
Regarding crisis management, the French tend to privilege the Euro-
pean Union over NATO. Germany and the United Kingdom, in contrast,
continue to give NATO ‘‘first choice’’ for crisis operations involving Eu-
ropean and US partners. NATO will continue to be the first choice for
robust action as long as the United States is interested in empowering
NATO, because, as Chris Patten puts it, the European Security and De-
fence Policy ‘‘is still in its infancy’’.39
Conclusions
For NATO, the period of collective defence is over: it has ‘‘lost an en-
emy’’ but has ‘‘not yet found a role’’.40 At the same time, NATO, and
transatlantic relations more generally, experienced a very serious blow
over the war in Iraq and in particular over questions related to the use
of force, the legitimacy of intervention and the role of the United Nations
in global and regional security issues. The European allies struggle over
how to deal with US power, while, for the Americans, Europe has lost
much of its strategic relevance. This asymmetry is accentuated by diverg-
ing threat perceptions: since 9/11 the United States is ‘‘at war’’, whereas
the Europeans have a more diffuse and differentiated perspective on new
threats and challenges.
What role can NATO play in the US-centric world order? This chapter
suggests that NATO should be able to remain a relevant security institu-
tion provided that it is prepared to act globally and muster the necessary
capabilities for force projection and sustainable operations. With these

provisos, NATO could also act in the future as a ‘‘consensus-building en-
gine’’ between the two sides of the Atlantic.41 Despite all its weaknesses,
NATO continues to be the only mechanism in transatlantic relations in
which security issues are politically debated and where instruments for
robust responses to challenges are available. Furthermore, NATO is still
the only institution that can tie the United States to European security
concerns.
NATO can find new functions and utility for regional and global secu-
rity in the realms of military activities against terrorism and WMD prolif-
eration, as well as in ‘‘soft security’’ areas such as crisis management and
peace operations. On the normative side, NATO can use its rich and
successful experience with the Partnership for Peace to engage Mediter-
ranean and Middle Eastern countries in dialogue and cooperative pro-
grammes dealing with defence reform, interoperability and civil–military
relations. Furthermore, the standards and governance requirements that
are part of the NATO Membership Action Plan have become recognized
norms well beyond the NATO territory.
The problem remains that NATO is made up of 26 countries with
different policy agendas and divergent security policy preferences. They
include the United States, which, during the George W. Bush administra-
tion, repeatedly bypassed the organization. The Europeans resent this
and argue that a ‘‘NATO which is limited to a ‘toolbox’ role will not be
viable’’.42 At the same time, NATO had been instrumentalized politi-
cally by several allies both before and after the US intervention in Iraq.
The Istanbul Summit was a damage control exercise that tried to mitigate
the negative effects of the divisions between Europe and the United
States. This is why the successes of the Summit have been primarily in
the area of ‘‘soft power’’.
The key to NATO’s future is to remain useful to its member states, in-
cluding the United States, and to become more relevant for international
organizations such as the European Union and the United Nations. This
requires NATO to continue to reinvent itself and to adapt in both form
and substance to the rapidly changing security environment of the post–
Cold War era.
Notes
1. See, for example, Richard Falk, ‘‘Opposition to War against Iraq’’, Transnational Foun-
dation for Peace and Future Research, 20 September 2002, hhttp://www.transnational.
org/forum/meet/2002/Falk_AgainstIraqWar.htmli; Richard Falk and David Krieger,
‘‘After the Iraq War: Thinking Ahead’’, Nuclear Age Peace Foundation, 1 May 2003,
hhttp://www.wagingpeace.org/articles/2003/05/01_falk_after-iraq.htmi.
342 FRED TANNER
2. The National Security Strategy of the United States of America (Washington, DC: The
White House, September 2002), hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/nsc/nss.pdfi.
3. NATO Secretary General Lord Ismay, 1948.
4. Albrecht Schnabel and Ramesh Thakur, Kosovo and the Challenge of Humanitarian
Intervention (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, 2000).
5. Wesley Clark, ‘‘An Army of One’’, Washington Monthly, September 2002.
6. Robert Kagan, ‘‘Power and Weakness,’’ Policy Review, No. 113 (June/July 2002).
7. Quadrennial Defense Review Report, US Department of Defense, 30 September 2001,
hhttp://www.defenselink.mil/pubs/qdr2001.pdfi.
8. The new member states are Bulgaria, Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia, Romania, Slovakia
and Slovenia.
9. Ronald D. Asmus, ‘‘Rebuilding the Atlantic Alliance’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 82, No. 5
(September/October 2003), p. 21.
10. See, for instance, ‘‘The End of NATO’’, Wall Street Journal, 10 February 2003.
11. In February 2003 France, Germany and Belgium issued a joint declaration that a NATO
accord on Turkey’s defences would ‘‘not in any way prejudge ongoing efforts’’ within
the framework of the existing UN resolution (UNSC Resolution 1441 on Iraq), which
abstains from authorizing the use of force.
12. When Poland assumed command of the Multinational Division in the south of Iraq as
part of the international stabilization force, NATO supported the mission with tasks
such as providing intelligence, logistics expertise, movement coordination, force genera-
tion and secure communications support. This support function did not, however, pro-
vide NATO with a presence in Iraq.
13. Recent reports suggest that France would require the United Nations to have ‘‘respon-
sibility for all operations’’ (‘‘No NATO Role before UN in Charge – France’’, Reuters,
6 April 2004).
14. John Chalmers, ‘‘Divisions on Iraq Cloud NATO’s Enlargement Party’’, Reuters, 3
April 2004.
15. ‘‘The Alliance’s Strategic Concept, Approved by the Heads of State and Government
participating in the meeting of the North Atlantic Council in Washington D.C. on 23rd
and 24th April 1999’’, NATO Press Release, NAC-S(99)65, 24 April 1999, hhttp://
www.nato.int/docu/pr/1999/p99-065e.htmi.
16. Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, NATO Secretary General, ‘‘Projecting Stability’’, speech to the
‘‘Defending Global Security’’ conference, Brussels, 17 May 2004, hhttp://www.nato.int/
docu/speech/2004/s040517a.htmi.
17. ‘‘NATO Affords Gains for U.S. Foreign, Security Policy’’, Washington File, 30 June
2004.
18. R. Nicholas Burns, ‘‘The New NATO and the Greater Middle East, Remarks at Confer-
ence on NATO and the Greater Middle East’’, Prague, 19 October 2003, hhttp://www.
state.gov/p/eur/rls/rm/2003/25602.htmi.
19. Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, NATO Secretary General, speech to the Munich Security
Conference, 12 February 2005, hhttp://www.securityconference.de/konferenzen/rede.
php?menu_2005=&menu_konferenzen=&sprache=en&id=159&i.
20. See Julian Lindley-French, ‘‘The Ties That Bind’’, NATO Review, Istanbul Summit Spe-
cial, May 2004, p. 53, hhttp://www.nato.int/docu/review/2003/issue3/english/art2.htmli.
21. Clark, ‘‘An Army of One’’.
22. For the text see Partnership Action Plan against Terrorism, NATO Basic Texts, 22 No-
vember 2002, hhttp://www.nato.int/docu/basictxt/b021122e.htmi.
23. ‘‘Istanbul Summit Communiqué, Issued by the Heads of State and Government partici-
pating in the meeting of the North Atlantic Council’’, NATO Press Release (2004) 096,
28 June 2004, hhttp://www.nato.int/docu/pr/2004/p04-096e.htmi.
24. Ibid.
25. NATO supported the ‘‘aims of the Proliferation Security Initiative (PSI) and its State-
ment of Interdiction Principles to establish a more co-ordinated and effective basis
through which to impede and stop shipments of WMD, delivery systems, and related
materials flowing to and from states and non-state actors of proliferation concern’’
(Ibid.).
26. Speech by Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, NATO Secretary General, National University of
Kyiv-mohyla Academy Kyiv, Ukraine, 20 October 2005, hhttp://www.nato.int/docu/
speech/2005/s051020a.htmi.
27. Heiner Hänggi and Fred Tanner, ‘‘Promoting Security Sector Governance in the EU’s
Neighbourhood’’, Chaillot Paper No. 80 (Paris: European Union Institute for Security
Studies, July 2005).
28. Istanbul Cooperation Initiative, NATO Policy Document, Istanbul Summit, 28 June
2004, hhttp://www.nato.int/docu/comm/2004/06-istanbul/docu-cooperation.htmi. The
suggested areas of cooperation include NATO-sponsored border security; access to ap-
propriate Partnership for Peace (PfP) programmes and training centres; and promoting
cooperation in the areas of civil emergency planning (offering NATO training courses
on civil emergency planning, civil–military coordination, and crisis response to mari-
time, aviation and surface threats; invitations to join or observe relevant NATO/PfP
exercises as appropriate; and provision of information on possible disaster assistance).
29. ‘‘France and Belgium Block NATO Iraq Training Plan’’, Financial Times, 18–19 Sep-
tember 2004.
30. See NATO Policy on Combating Trafficking in Human Beings, NATO Policy document,
29 June 2004, Appendix 1, hhttp://www.nato.int/docu/comm/2004/06-istanbul/docu-traffic.
htmi.
31. Carl Bildt, ‘‘We Must Build States and Not Nations’’, Financial Times, 16 January 2004.
32. ‘‘Afghan Troubles Will Test NATO’s Quest for New Role’’, Financial Times, 27 May
2004.
33. NATO Secretary General, Jaap de Hoop Scheffer, ‘‘A Transforming Alliance’’, speech
delivered to the Cambridge Union Society, Cambridge, 2 February 2005, hhttp://www.
nato.int/docu/speech/2005/s050202b.htmi.
34. ‘‘Those Who Can’t Fight, Train’’, The Economist, 3 July 2004, p. 38.
35. G8 Action Plan: Expanding Global Capability for Peace Support Operations, G8 Sum-
mit, Sea Island, GA, 10 June 2004; available at hhttp://www.g8.utoronto.ca/summit/
2004seaisland/peace.htmli.
36. A Secure Europe in a Better World, European Security Strategy, Brussels, adopted by
the European Council on 12 December 2003, p. 6, hhttp://ue.eu.int/uedocs/cmsUpload/
78367.pdfi.
37. Lindley-French, ‘‘The Ties That Bind’’, p. 51.
38. The Berlin Plus agreement regulates the use of NATO assets and other capabilities in
crisis management operations that are led by the European Union.
39. Chris Patten, ‘‘A Security Strategy for Europe’’, Oxford Journal on Good Governance,
Vol. 1, No. 1 (2004), p. 13.
40. The Economist, 26 June 2004, p. 15.
41. Clark, ‘‘An Army of One’’.
42. Peter Struck, ‘‘The Future of NATO’’, speech at the 40th Munich Conference on Secu-
rity Policy, 7 February 2004, hhttp://www.securityconference.de/konferenzen/rede.php
?menu_2004=&menu_konferenzen=&sprache=en&id=125&i.
21
A perspective from the
European Union
Luis Martinez
The overthrow of Saddam Hussein provoked a crisis within the Euro-

pean Union over the objectives, principles and resources of its foreign
policy, particularly in the Middle East. Since 1995, the European Union
has developed its neighbourhood policy within the framework of the
Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (Barcelona process), but it has re-
mained marginal in the Middle East and in the Gulf. Therefore, the Iraq
crisis has forced the European Union to define its policy towards a region
that is largely subject to the influence of the United States. Three major
obstacles prevented the Union from defining a common policy towards
Iraq: first, the deep mistrust of European public opinion about the real
intentions of the Bush administration in Iraq; secondly, objection to war
as a means of diplomatic action; thirdly, the preventive war in Iraq ap-
peared to be an aggravating factor in relations with the Muslim world.
Besides these three major obstacles, there were internal disagreements
between member states of the Union. These member states were divided
between a British pro-US model and a Franco-German axis that was hos-
tile to the methods of the Bush administration and its utopian vision of
the Middle East.
The side-effects of the trauma caused by the attacks of 11 September
2001 were incomprehensible to European and Arab/Muslim opinion. The
‘‘war against terrorism’’ launched by the Bush administration seemed dis-
proportionate compared with the attacks. Even worse, the invasion of
Iraq destroyed the sympathy gained after the drama of the World Trade
Center. Being more a reactive war (owing to the trauma of the attacks)
344
A PERSPECTIVE FROM THE EUROPEAN UNION 345
than a strategic one, the occupation of Iraq represents a problem. In the

first place, how is it possible to keep the US troops in Iraq without pro-
voking violent resistance from Iraqi society? On the other hand, how can
the Americans leave Iraq without provoking instability in the region? Fi-
nally, how is it possible simultaneously to carry out the ‘‘war against ter-
rorism’’ and the war against the guerrillas in Iraq? The United States is
confronted with a deep feeling of incomprehension in Europe and of an-
imosity from the Arab/Muslim world. In May 2003, US President George
W. Bush announced that the war in Iraq was over: the regime of Saddam
Hussein had been overthrown. A new period would begin for the Iraqis:
freedom, democracy and development were the expected results.
In the post-trauma atmosphere, the Bush administration had accused
the Iraqi regime of acting in complicity with the al-Qaeda network and
producing weapons of mass destruction likely to be used by terrorists.1
Then, in a more general way, the Iraqi state became the symbol of a
new policy towards the Arab/Muslim world: the Bush administration un-
dertook to promote democracy by force.2 The purpose became ‘‘to liber-
ate’’ societies subjected to dictatorial regimes in order to promote the
development of new values. The post-war plan of the Bush administra-
tion has been confronted with very serious obstacles (a lack of soldiers
in Iraq, increasing rejection of the occupation forces by the Iraqi popula-
tion, the development of torture, etc.). Symbolically, on 28 June 2004,
Iraq regained its sovereignty and the US administrator, Paul Bremer,
left Baghdad. With a view to rebuilding a legitimate political system,
legislative elections were scheduled for January 2005. Approximately 14
million electors were invited to vote in order to elect the 275 deputies of
the Provisional National Assembly, the members of the Baghdad Council
and 17 regional councils, and the 111 members of the Kurdistan autono-
mous parliament. More than 7,000 candidates were registered on 109 lists
to participate.
Iraq, Europe and the United States: A persisting

incomprehension
Shortly after the attacks of 11 September 2001, the French newspaper

Le Monde had the headline: ‘‘We Are All Americans’’. Jacques Chirac
was the first European head of state to visit the ruins of the World Trade
Center in honour of the victims. A wave of compassion tempered Euro-
pean opinion, which considered it legitimate that the United States
should respond to this aggression. The overthrow of the Taliban regime
in Afghanistan seemed to be a logical consequence. It was only when the
Bush administration pointed to the Iraq of Saddam Hussein as a poten-
346 LUIS MARTINEZ
tial target that a kind of incomprehension started to develop. A series of

vague and unconvincing explanations, which supposedly justified the war
against Iraq, were poorly received by European opinion. Several factors
explain this European ‘‘resistance’’ to the media propaganda of the Bush
administration.
Iraqi society was already suffering
In the first place, Iraq was not considered to be a dangerous state. Rather
it was a destroyed state where the population faced great adversity. Con-
templating a new war against Iraq meant accepting that once again its
population would suffer new traumas. Whereas US opinion was seem-
ingly indifferent to the humanitarian consequences of the sanctions im-
posed on Iraq, Europeans were informed about the plight of this country.
For five years after the Gulf war of 1991, Iraq was subjected to a total
embargo, with devastating socio-economic impacts on the population.
As a result of UN Resolution 687 (3 April 1991), the US administration
imposed a quasi-total embargo that seemed to be more of a collective
punishment rather than real economic sanctions. The embargo was the
most severe of the century – not even the Versailles treaty went so far.
Certainly, the conquerors of Germany had amputated its territory, ob-
liged it to pay reparations and blocked its military power, but nothing im-
peded it from re-establishing regular commercial relations and rebuilding
its infrastructure. In Iraq, although it was authorized to export a small
amount of oil, at a price set by the United Nations, the international com-
munity prohibited the import of the necessary materials for restarting
refineries and electricity power stations, arguing that these materials
could have had ‘‘dual’’ civil and military use. Basic medication and com-
modities were blocked under the pretext that they could be used for the
fabrication of chemical weapons. Owing to a lack of aerosols, asthma be-
came a deadly disease. It is estimated that approximately 500,000 chil-
dren under the age of five paid with their lives for the severity of the
embargo. In 1996, when US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright was
questioned in front of the cameras about the human cost of the sanctions
and the death of 500,000 children, she answered: ‘‘I think this is a very
hard choice, but the price – we think the price is worth it.’’3 In 1995, the
Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations and UNICEF
announced that 4 million Iraqis were living in a state of ‘‘pre-starvation’’
and that the lives of 1 million, particularly children, were threatened.
To relieve the suffering of civilians, an ‘‘Oil-for-Food’’ programme was
set up in 1996. One of the conditions was that 25 per cent of the oil
revenues should be directed to Kuwait for war reparations. In order to
supervise the programme, a large number of inspectors were mobilized.
After 1996 the Iraqi authorities were authorized to sell US$2 billion of
oil every six months, and in 1998 the authorized amount was increased to
US$5 billion. Iraqi oil was sold mainly through trade companies (83 per
cent) and its main client (60 per cent of exports under UN supervision)
was the US market. Iraq nevertheless succeeded in appropriating US$2.5
billion each year from the oil revenues without the United Nations’
knowledge.
Loulouwa el Rashid describes three stages of economic recovery.4 The
first, 1995–1996, was a period of inflation. The government printed money
as a redistribution method but this caused the collapse of the Iraqi dinar.
Moreover, the government used up strategic stocks accumulated during
the war against Iran and goods appropriated from Kuwait at the time of
its invasion. In short, during this period the regime relied on its reserves.
It was also during this period that the government encouraged smuggling
and deregulated external trade. The second period, 1997–1998, was char-
acterized by an increase in external trade, reflected in massive imports of
commodities. The market improved and the shortages of products and
goods of the 1993–1995 years started to disappear. The third period
started in 1998 and was characterized by a disengagement of the state
(privatization of the public sector, enterprise self-financing, financial self-
sufficiency, remuneration of civil servants according to results, etc.). The
regime was successful in supplying some of the needs of the population.
From this point of view, the Bush administration’s determination to
overthrow the regime seemed incomprehensible. In the face of the Ira-
nian or North Korean menace, how was it possible to claim that Iraq
was a danger? No Iraqis figured among the 9/11 terrorists and yet it was
the Iraqi regime that was made out to be a threat. This lack of expla-
nation led European opinion to vacillate between growing scepticism
(which would become total mistrust among the French, Germans, Span-
ish and Italians) and moderate understanding (in the UK and the
Scandinavian countries). In general, the Bush administration’s interest
in launching the war against Iraq would seem to have been the result of
psychological factors (finishing Bush senior’s work), therapeutic factors
(overcoming the trauma of 9/11), economic factors (taking control of oil
resources) and military factors (establishing US supremacy in the re-
gion). The war against Iraq was not considered to be a ‘‘just war’’, and
mistrust turned to hostility when, in the face of the German, French and
Russian refusal to support the war in Iraq in the Security Council, Con-
doleezza Rice was quoted as allegedly saying ‘‘we must punish France,
ignore Germany and forgive Russia’’.5
A war with irreversible consequences
Apart from a lack of understanding of the reasons for launching a war

against Iraq, there was concern that an ‘‘illegitimate war’’ would provoke
348 LUIS MARTINEZ
irreversible consequences in terms of the rise of terrorism. For the Euro-

peans, the best way of disarming ‘‘rogue states’’ is to use UN mecha-
nisms. The United Nations had already given proof of its capacity in this
matter in Iraq. To use war for such an objective means to take the risk of
provoking a ‘‘clash of civilizations’’. The Arab/Muslim world is already
confronted with numerous wars that it considers hostile to its community
(Palestine, Kashmir, Chechnya, etc.). Besides, a war against Iraq would
create a feeling of ‘‘hatred’’ within the Muslim world that would be diffi-
cult to control, and whose long-term effects could undermine interna-
tional relations. The geographical proximity of Europe to the Muslim
world and the depth of its economic, migratory, tourist and cultural ex-
changes lead it to perceive the war against Iraq in a very different way
from the United States. Having a long history formed by crusades, colo-
nization and decolonization wars, Europe views the Arab world with
cautious concern. The experience of the British and the French in North
Africa and the Middle East prompts Europe to be prudent in its relations
with the Arab world. Besides, Iraq could not emulate the German or
Japanese post-war model enunciated by Donald Rumsfeld. As Philip H.
Gordon emphasized: ‘‘Americans imbued with the experience of creating
democracy in Japan and Germany after the Second World War cling –
perhaps naively – to the belief that if one can just get rid of the current
Iraqi dictator, democracy and freedom will flourish in the region . . . The
European historical pessimism (or realism, depending on one’s perspec-
tive), contrasts significantly with Americans’ historical ‘can-do’ optimism
and helps explain why some Americans believe that invading Iraq would
be a first step toward creating a new and better Middle East.’’6
The violence of the occupation: Proof of US failure

The overthrow of Saddam Hussein and the occupation of Iraq marginal-
ized Europe. In spite of opposition from European public opinion and
the major European governments, the US administration launched a uni-
lateral war against Iraq. As European public opinion emerged, its objec-
tion to war sometimes opposed the decision by their head of state to par-
ticipate in the war (the United Kingdom, Spain, Ukraine, Poland). Once
the illusion of a ‘‘lightning victory’’ and of a constructive occupation had
passed, Franco-German pessimism about the impossibility of imposing
change by armed force became the point of reference. The French and
German analyses proved to be justified and accurate. From this perspec-
tive, Europeans have three possibilities: progressively leave the Iraqi ter-
ritory to the states that got involved and let the United States get bogged
down in an endless war; become involved in the economic and political
domains in order to alleviate the suffering of the population; participate

indirectly in the war by training the security forces.
In fact, the official end of the war was accompanied by the develop-
ment of a guerrilla war that has undermined and destroyed Iraq’s recon-
struction project. For example, sabotage of oil pipelines has caused the
loss of US$10 billion. Furthermore, out of US$18 billion of aid intended
for reconstruction, only 2 per cent was used in 2003. The political and se-
curity situation made it impossible for the Iraqi economy to take off, and
insecurity and unemployment became a reality. From this perspective, is
the reconstruction of Iraq possible? The attitude of the Iraqi population
towards the US occupation forces is critical. Because of the US presence
in Iraq, Iraqis doubt the sincerity of the United States’ proclaimed mo-
tives (liberty and democracy), they reject the US war methods (torture,
humiliation, the destruction of insurgent cities) and they believe that the
United States’ real objective is civil war. This Iraqi mistrust of the US
occupation forces is based on recent history, current operations and un-
certainties about the future. Nationalist sentiment is very strong and con-
stitutes the best antidote to the supposed or real threat that Iraq’s diverse
communities might cause its collapse.
This insecurity is a real obstacle to the reconstruction of Iraq. During
the Madrid Conference on 24 October 2003, the European Union recon-
firmed its engagement on behalf of the development of a prosperous and
stable Iraq and concluded that it was prepared to participate in the re-
construction of Iraq within the framework of United Nations Security
Council Resolution 1483.7 Since then it has deployed @320 million ‘‘with
a view to restoring key public services, boosting employment and reduc-
ing poverty as well as strengthening governance, civil society and human
rights’’; and more than one European country is militarily engaged with
the coalition.8 It is clear that very few concrete modes of participation
exist for the European Union. However, the EU contribution could be
essential for projects that are as important as reconstruction. Also, after
the elections of 30 January 2005, the emergence of a new authority in
Iraq less subjugated to US tutelage than was the first prime minister,
Iyad Allawi, will have the responsibility of facilitating the engagement of
the European Union in Iraq.
In June 2004, the Coalition Provisional Authority’s Programme Man-
agement Office (PMO) confirmed that US$18.4 billion would be invested
in infrastructure reconstruction projects. The PMO stated that, as of that
date, ‘‘we have committed over $9 billion out of a total of $18.4 billion
and are employing nearly 20,000 Iraqis’’.9 After the overthrow of Saddam
Hussein’s regime, the fear of a major humanitarian crisis had emerged.
Several million Iraqis depended on the distribution of basic products
under the ‘‘Oil-for-Food’’ programme. The United Nations quickly re-
350 LUIS MARTINEZ
stored the rudimentary rationing system that had existed before the war
and delivered more than 1.5 million tons of food between May and July
2003. However, supplies of water and electricity and the treatment of
waste water have not reached pre-war standards.10 This has aroused re-
sentment among the population. In fact, by August 2003 more than 585
schools had been rehabilitated and all the universities had reopened,11
but, for a country ruined by two decades of war, sanctions and a war of
‘‘liberation’’, the lack of progress on reconstruction projects does not give
the population confidence in a rapid improvement in the socio-economic
situation.12 Only Iraqis who are able to enlist in the security forces or in
the oil sector can expect an improvement in their living conditions.
Even worse, the destruction of cities and districts that support the in-
surgency has provoked waves of refugees to the interior of the country
and an already weakened population is sinking into an ever more precar-
ious situation. The reconstruction of Iraq is undoubtedly the most impor-
tant challenge for its future. Yet it is clear that, even though Europe
could play a major role in this, it is not happening, owing to the lack of
convergence between the Iraqi government, the Bush administration and
the European Union.
The resistance to the US occupation

Whereas European public opinion expressed doubts about the legitimacy
of the war against Iraq, European governments were sceptical about the
pertinence of the link between Iraq and al-Qaeda. Whereas the Bush ad-
ministration associates the fight against world terrorism with the war in
Iraq, France and Germany consider that the war against Iraq is only in-
creasing world terrorism and making the world less safe. The exponential
development of armed groups in Iraq reinforces this point of view. For
the Europeans, the persistence of an armed resistance in Iraq reminds
them of their colonial experience and concerns them. From this point of
view, the armed forces cannot do anything against a society in revolt.
The resistance to the US occupation is multifaceted. According to Samir
Haddad and Mazin Ghazi, it is structured around several tendencies.13
1. The main Sunni resistance groups, which primarily target the US
occupation:
The Iraqi National Islamic Resistance (The 1920 Revolution Bri-
gades). Its declared aim is to liberate Iraqi territory from foreign
military and political occupation and to establish a liberated and in-
dependent Islamic Iraqi state. A statement issued by the group on
19 August 2004 explained, that between 27 July and 7 August 2004,
the group had carried out an average of 10 operations every day.
The National Front for the Liberation of Iraq, which comprises 10

resistance groups. It consists of nationalists and Islamists, and its ac-
tivities are concentrated in Arbil and Kirkuk.
The Iraqi Resistance Islamic Front, which comprises a coalition of
a number of small resistance factions (Salah al Din, Sayf Allah al
Maslul Brigades, Al Rantisi Brigade). Its political and jihad pro-
gramme stems from a jurisprudence viewpoint that allows it to fight
the occupiers.
Other Sunni groups are acting against the coalition, and some of
these armed groups are considered to derive from Saddam Hus-
sein’s regime – Al Awdah, Saddam Fedayeen, and the Iraqi Libera-
tion Army (which warned foreign countries against sending troops
to Iraq and pledged to attack those troops if they were sent).14 Fi-
nally, autonomous groups are leading the jihad: Awakening and
Holy War, The White Banners, Al Haqq Army.
2. Shiite resistance groups:
The Al-Sadr group (Mahdi’s army).
Imam Ali Bin Abi Talib Jihadi Brigades.
A large number of Islamist groups operating against the coalition
forces: Assadullah Brigades, Islamic Retaliation Movement, Islamic
Anger Brigades, Khalid Bin al Walid Brigades, Iraq’s Martyrs Bri-
gades, Secret Islamic Army.
3. International groups operating in the name of al-Qaeda – Abu Musab
al Zarqawi, Al Tawhid wa al Jihad, Ansar al Sunah Movement.
In the face of the Iraqi armed resistance, the European Union finds itself
confronted with the worst possible dilemma: either remain as a spectator
of a dramatic conflict with no certain ending; or participate in a conflict
that it opposed. The re-election of George Bush and the determination
of the US administration repudiate the hypothesis of a speedy with-
drawal of US forces from Iraq. From this point of view, the European
Union is participating, in a very modest way, in the Iraqi conflict. The
French and German governments are cooperating in the training (outside
of Iraq) of Iraqi police. In this conflict, the issue for most European states
is to not provoke the US administration. Only the United Kingdom con-
tinues actively to support the US troops in Iraq.
The way forward

There are three possible scenarios for the evolution of the situation in
Iraq: keeping the coalition forces in Iraq and entrenching the resulting
violence; the departure of the coalition forces after 2005 and the preser-
vation of a suspended regime; the construction of a political peace plan.
352 LUIS MARTINEZ
It is this last proposition that the European Union is more likely to

follow.
Maintaining the coalition, entrenching violence
The fact of keeping 150,000 US soldiers in Iraq is perpetuating the state

of violence. The United States has failed to establish a climate of trust
with Iraqi society. After the overthrow of Saddam Hussein’s regime, the
political choices by the Provisional Authority and, above all, the behav-
iour of the coalition soldiers provoked hatred and rejection of the coali-
tion troops, which shifted from ‘‘liberator’’ to ‘‘occupying’’ status. Ac-
cording to the Iraqi political analyst Nabil Mohamed Salim:
The American intervention has touched the moral, symbolic and material compo-
nents of the national power. The manifestation of the first element was illustrated
by the dissolution of the Iraqi army – emblem of the State power – by the occu-
pation forces; the second element lies in the total paralysis of Iraq’s economic and
industrial sectors after the destruction of its infrastructure. It is like this that Iraq
continued and continues to be emptied of all possibilities that will allow it to re-
constitute the elements of a sovereign independent State.15
Salim emphasizes that nationalist sentiments were completely ignored in

the preparations for the post-Saddam period. The inability to formulate a
plan that foresaw a rapid transfer of real sovereignty to the Iraqi people
explains the present violence. The occupation is experienced as a humili-
ation. From this point of view, the ‘‘liberation’’ of Iraq is incomprehen-
sible because it was not accompanied by a return of sovereignty. The
conviction that the coalition forces are predisposed to transfer power
not to the Iraqis but to their chosen representatives has increased partic-
ipation in the Shiite resistance, the Mahdi army of Moqtada al-Sadr, as
well as the Sunnis.
Even worse, ulterior motives are attributed to the coalition forces,
which only emphasizes the disillusion and disenchantment of the Iraqis:
‘‘when we had realised that the United States invaded us, guided by their
economic (oil), political and security interests (remodeling of the region’s
political and force relations in the international level) in fact we had just
apprehended a part of the truth’’.16 It is clear that the fear of seeing Iraq
completely remodelled, according only to the regional and international
imperatives of the United States, has provoked the rise of a conspiracy
theory. From the perspective of Iraqi, Shiite and Sunni nationalists, the
war in Iraq will be the first step in a search to divide the territory. They
fear that behind ‘‘the federalist project’’ lies a programmed division of
Iraq into three regions, grouping the Kurds in the north, the Shiites in
the south and the Sunnis in the ‘‘resistance triangle’’. The lack of trust
between the coalition forces and Iraqi society reinforces the most alarm-
ist visions among opposition members who find in violence the only way
to bring an end to violence.
The departure of the coalition forces
For European public opinion, the departure of the coalition forces would
endorse the feeling of fairness that sustained their opposition to the war.
But for the European Union the viability of Iraq would be threatened if
the United States withdrew. The reasoning is simple: the Iraqi guerrilla
forces are growing all the time. Those in charge of the US administration
increasingly express surprise and astonishment in the face of the continu-
ation of this resistance. Whereas the war against Saddam Hussein’s re-
gime was carefully prepared, the war against the guerrillas was not. Far
from weakening, the insurgent groups have increased their troops and
their capacity to inflict harm. The number of armed coalition victims con-
tinues to grow (1,250 deaths and 10,000 injured). From this point of view,
the gradual withdrawal of the coalition forces becomes a possible option
in the short term. Beyond the costs of war, the absence of a conclusive
victory leads to the fear of dealing with a never-ending guerrilla war.
However, the hope that a viable Iraqi security organ could take over
from the coalition forces is fading away. It is clear that the coalition
forces are caught up in a war against a section of Iraqi society that is di-
rectly challenging the occupying forces, the Sunni Arabs, and another
section, the Shiites, who are manipulating the political process to gain
power and to demand the removal of US troops. In the long term, the
US presence is not viable because it is deeply rejected.
The paradox is that departure of the US forces troubles the Iraqis.
There is a very real fear that a civil war would ensue. From this perspec-
tive, there appears to be a similarity with the withdrawal of Soviet troops
from Afghanistan after establishing a pro-Soviet regime in Kabul. As in
Kabul, the pro-US government in Baghdad would not resist the attacks
of the opposition for long.17 The seizing of Baghdad by the insurgents
would considerably weaken the war against terrorism launched by the
Bush administration. For the Islamist movements, such a victory would
mean that the US forces, just like the Soviets in Afghanistan, are just
‘‘paper tigers’’. For Europe, such an eventuality would seriously desta-
bilize the ‘‘conservative’’ regimes of the Middle East. The premature
withdrawal of the US troops would thus represent the worst scenario if
it accompanied a civil war in Iraq. This probability would recall the with-
drawal of Israeli troops from Beirut, after which Lebanon descended into
the chaos of civil war and regional conflicts.
354 LUIS MARTINEZ
The construction of a political peace plan
For Europe, the issue is to convince the Bush administration that military
force alone is useless in the face of resistance by a society. Like many
other states (India in Kashmir, Israel in Palestine, Russia in Chechnya),
the United States is confronted with the delusion of the military solution.
These conflicts remind us of the stalemate of the armed option. The
military response to the insurgency (for example, the destruction of the
cities of Samara and Fallujah) is an acknowledgement of political power-
lessness. The inability of the coalition forces to formulate political op-
tions flexible enough to be accepted in Iraq demonstrates a policy based
on imposition by force. The construction of a peace plan requires this
policy to be questioned. Such a plan should not be proof of the failure
of the US project in Iraq, but would acknowledge that developments in
Iraq necessarily affect the stability of the region.
From this point of view, the international community must take some
share of the responsibility; it should not just accept that the occupier,
the United States, is responsible. Moreover, politically and economically,
there is very little hope of the situation becoming stable. The interna-
tional conference at Sharm el Sheikh on 22 and 23 November 2004 high-
lighted a series of announcements and principles. In the first place, EU
Commissioner Ferrero-Waldner recalled that ‘‘one of my first tasks is
the European Union’s support to the preparation of credible and truly
competitive elections in Iraq. It is essential that polling . . . should take
place in all parts of the country’’.18 The European Union has become in-
volved (politically, economically and financially) in the Iraqi conflict. But
is it possible successfully to construct a peace plan for Iraq?
First, it is necessary to bring to an end the illusory idea that Iraq is the
front-line in the war against Islamist terrorism. Secondly, it is necessary
to consider the nationalist sentiment in Iraq that makes any kind of for-
eign occupation unbearable. Finally, one needs to start from the principle
that the political system should be applicable to all communities and mi-
norities. Such a plan cannot be created in a political climate where inse-
curity and a state of occupation prevail. The legitimacy of the new Iraqi
political institutions remains weak owing to the presence of US troops.
To ensure greater legitimacy it would be wiser to leave the management
of this political transfer in the hands of the United Nations. For historical
and diplomatic reasons, the United States does not have available a stock
of sympathy in Iraq that could allow it successfully to carry out the Iraqi
transition. It would therefore be appropriate to call on the United Na-
tions again to reach a consensus on ways of approaching the presence of
foreign forces in Iraq. The Bush administration’s unilateralism consti-
tutes a serious problem for the construction of peace in Iraq.
Conclusion
Iraq illustrates the deep disagreements between the Bush administration

and the European Union. The faith in achieving political change by force
is in contrast to the European project of a Euro-Mediterranean Partner-
ship made with the countries of the Mediterranean southern shore in
1995, in which economic reforms, democratization and disarmament are
the negotiating objectives.19 The past colonial experience of the Euro-
peans means that they no longer have the superiority complex that
made them colonize the Mediterranean basin during the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries. For the Europeans, the Great Middle East project is
an illusion. In any event, as the 2002 Arab Human Development Report
underlines, the Arab population, estimated at 280 million in 2000, is ex-
pected to grow to 480 million by 2020, but revenues per capita will take
120 years just to double.20 It is probable that the development of anti-
Americanism and anti-Zionism comes not only from the propaganda of
the Arab authoritarian states21 but also from the situation in Iraq. In
fact, there is no guarantee that, once liberated from servitude, the newly
democratized Arab societies will no longer have a reason to share ‘‘the
hatred’’ for the United States,22 if it provokes unjustified destruction
and violence.
Notes
1. WMD in Iraq. Evidence and Implications (Washington DC: Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace, January 2004).
2. Daniel Brumberg, Moyen-Orient: L’enjeu démocratique (Paris: Michalon, 2003).
3. An interview with Madeleine Albright by Leslie Stahl, ‘‘60 Minutes’’, 12 May 1996.
4. Françoise Rigaud, ‘‘Irak: Le temps suspendu de l’embargo’’, Critique internationale, No.
11 (1998).
5. See, for example, Toby Harnden, ‘‘Americans Find Ways to Punish the French’’, Daily
Telegraph, 25 April 2003.
6. Philip H. Gordon, Iraq: The Transatlantic Debate, Occasional Papers No. 39 (Paris: Eu-
ropean Union Institute for Security Studies, December 2002), p. 16.
7. Commission of the European Communities, ‘‘Communication from the Commission to
the Council and the European Parliament: The Madrid Conference on Reconstruction
in Iraq, 24 October 2003’’, COM (2003) 575, Brussels, 1 October 2003, hhttp://europa.
eu.int/comm/external_relations/iraq/intro/com03_575en.pdfi (accessed 2 February
2006).
8. ‘‘European Union Factsheet: EU Support for Iraq’’, June 2005, hhttp://ue.eu.int/uedocs/
cmsUpload/Factsheet-Iraq-June2005.pdfi.
9. Coalition Provisional Authority, hhttp://www.cpa-iraq.org/i.
10. Iraqi Interim Government, hhttp://www.iraqigovernment.org/reconstruction.htmi.
11. See ‘‘100 Days of Progress in Iraq’’, hwww.whitehouse.gov/infocus/iraq/part5.htmli.
12. The unemployment rate varies from 25 per cent to 50 per cent of the active population
356 LUIS MARTINEZ
depending on the estimate (‘‘Reconstructing Iraq’’, Middle East Report No. 30, Interna-
tional Crisis Group, Brussels, 2 September 2004).
13. Samir Haddad and Mazin Ghazi, ‘‘An Inventory of Iraqi Resistance Groups: Who
Kills Hostages in Iraq?’’, Al Zawra (Baghdad), 19 September 2004, hhttp://www.
freeArabvoice.orgi.
14. Scott Ritter, ‘‘A Weapons Inspector Saw ‘Blueprints’ for Monday’s Insurgency’’, Chris-
tian Science Monitor, 10 November 2003.
15. Nabil Mohamed Salim, lecture at CEI-Sciences-Po, Paris, June 2005.
16. Ibid.
17. ‘‘Given their extreme frailty, Iraqi institutions would probably not survive a precipitous
disengagement, handing the insurgents a significant victory’’ (‘‘What Can the U.S. Do in
Iraq?’’, Middle East Report No. 34, International Crisis Group, Brussels, 22 December
2004).
18. Cited in ‘‘Sharm el Sheikh: The EU Offers Iraq Support and Partnership’’, 22 Novem-
ber 2004, at hhttp://www.delsyr.cec.eu.int/en/whatsnew/detail.asp?id=91i (accessed 3
May 2006).
19. As Javier Solana emphasizes: ‘‘In no way does this new Union responsibility move it
away from the original European project based on the values of peace, law, justice and
democracy. My conviction is entirely the opposite: it is these very values that the Union
embodies and seeks to promote in its international action, whether in the Balkans, in
the Middle East, in Africa, or with respect to Iraq. Develop a greater degree of interna-
tional justice and respect for law, build patiently the minimum conditions for good
governance and democracy, favour negotiation rather than conflict, but agree to inter-
vene and coerce when coercion becomes necessary: these are the strategic principles
on which the construction of the ESPD was founded five years ago’’ (EU Security and
Defense Policy: The First Five Years (1999–2004), Paris: EU Institute for Security
Studies, 2004, p. 10).
20. Arab Human Development Report 2002: Creating Opportunities for Future Genera-
tions, United Nations Development Programme, 2003, hhttp://hdr.undp.org/reports/
detail_reports.cfm?view=600i.
21. Anthony H. Cordesman, ‘‘The Bush Administration has touched upon all these issues in
its call for democracy in the Arab world, but the end result has been slogans rather than
substance . . . The end result is that the Administration’s efforts have generally appeared
in the region to be calls for regime change favourable to the US, rather than support for
practical reform’’ (‘‘The Transatlantic Alliance: Is 2004 the Year of the Greater Middle
East?’’, Center for Strategic and International Studies, Washington, DC, 12 January
2004, hhttp://www.csis.org/index.php?option=com_csis_pubs&task=view&id=1363i, ac-
cessed 2 May 2006).
22. ‘‘In a matter of only a few years, Palestine will be one of two new Arab democratic
states. The other neonatal Arab democracy will be Iraq. These unthinkable develop-
ments will revolutionize the power dynamic in the Middle East, powerfully adding to
the effects of the liberation of Afghanistan to force Arab and Islamic regimes to increas-
ingly allow democratic reforms. A majority of Arabs will come to see America as the
essential ally in progressing liberty in their own lands’’ (Michael Kelly, Washington
Post, 26 June 2002; see also ‘‘Democracy Mirage in the Middle East’’, Carnegie Endow-
ment for International Peace, Washington DC, October 2002).
22
Quicksand? The United Nations
in Iraq, 2001–2005
Introduction
In Chapter 2 of this volume, we described five phases of UN peace oper-

ations in Iraq in the period 1980–2001. In this chapter, we aim to describe
the role of the United Nations in addressing a series of crises affecting
Iraq since 2001, and to reflect on their implications for the United Na-
tions. Given limitations of space and not wishing to tax the patience of
readers well acquainted with recent news, we compress many of these de-
velopments. Instead, our narrative presents a broad overview of the
United Nations’ role in Iraq in four periods: from 2001 until the coalition
invasion on 20 March 2003; from invasion to the bombing of the UN
headquarters in Baghdad; the implications of that bombing; and the
period since. Finally, we examine the implications of these events for the
United Nations’ future role in promoting world order.
11 September 2001 to 20 March 2003: The United Nations

as one coalition among many?
The terrorist attacks on American soil of 11 September 2001 radically al-
tered the strategic calculus perceived by decision makers in the United
States. All too suddenly, the strategy of containment underpinning the
inspections-plus-sanctions regime imposed on Iraq after the 1991 Gulf
war appeared to many of them as inadequate. The risk of proliferation
357
of weapons of mass destruction (WMD) from Saddam Hussein’s Ba’athist

regime to terrorists – or even a closer strategic partnership between the
two groups – became a point of obsession for a number of policy makers
in an atmosphere of national apprehension.1 Against this backdrop, hav-
ing first addressed the immediate threat of al-Qaeda and its host Taliban
regime in Afghanistan, the United States, ultimately without the author-
ization of the Security Council, led a new push for the disarmament of
Iraq and the overthrow of Saddam Hussein, precipitating a crisis for UN
norms and institutions.
In the first half of 2001, the Security Council’s inspections-plus-
sanctions approach instituted by Resolution 687 was in some disarray.
After French support shifted between 1996 and 1998 away from the ag-
gressive US–UK approach to implementing the resolution towards the
more conciliatory Russian and Chinese approach, both the inspections
and sanctions regimes were gradually rolled back. The procedures of the
sanctions regime had slowly been reformed to allow for greater oil export
revenues and consequently more humanitarian imports. Sanctions fatigue
slowly turned to sanctions defeatism.2 Inspections had been suspended
following Operation Desert Fox in December 1998. By 2001, patience
with the inspections-plus-sanctions approach was wearing thin, both
in capitals and amongst democratic electors. Deep divisions amongst
the permanent five members of the Security Council (the P-5) remained.
Whereas, for a combination of economic, political and humanitarian rea-
sons, the Russians, French and Chinese preferred to mitigate sanctions
and move away from the intrusive inspections-plus-sanctions regulatory
approach back to a more traditional model of inspections as a tool for
containment, the United States and the United Kingdom still aimed for
permanent Iraqi disarmament.
Slowly, a common ground emerged between these divergent ap-
proaches, aiming at relaxing sanctions while bringing further pressure to
bear on Saddam to cooperate with weapons inspectors. But Saddam re-
mained defiant, convinced perhaps that the United States and the United
Kingdom would never lift sanctions while he was in power, no matter
what he revealed or how he limited his military capacity, and sensing,
perhaps, the deepening divisions between the members of the P-5.3 After
11 September 2001, the United States and the United Kingdom seemed
intent on removing Hussein from power, once and for all.4 Within the
Bush administration, there was a determination not to allow the terrorist
threat represented by al-Qaeda to come together with the WMD threat,
which, in US eyes, Saddam Hussein had come to symbolize. The US–UK
approach to inspections became more aggressive. By November 2002,
they had forged agreement amongst the P-5 to step up inspections, giving
the inspections-plus-sanctions approach one final chance.
In Resolution 1441 of 8 November 2002, the Security Council decided
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 359
that Iraq had been and remained in ‘‘material breach’’ of its disarmament
obligations, and gave it one ‘‘final opportunity’’ to comply with those ob-
ligations, failing which it would face ‘‘serious consequences’’. Resolution
1441 required Iraq not only to agree to allow the inspections of the UN
Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission (UNMOVIC) to re-
sume, but also to provide a complete and final disclosure of WMD activ-
ities. The Bush administration congratulated itself for what it considered
a neat trap: if Hussein admitted possessing WMD, he was acknowledging
a violation of UN resolutions; if he did not, he would be deceiving the
world, and again violating those resolutions.5 Either way, the United Na-
tions would have delivered the United States the legitimacy it sought for
armed intervention. (That, of course, assumed that Saddam Hussein did
have WMD. Ultimately, it was this misreading that hoist the United
States by its own non-existent petard.6)
At first, the apparent consensus embodied in Resolution 1441’s crea-
tively ambiguous language of ‘‘material breach’’ and ‘‘serious conse-
quences’’ held. Hussein delivered a document purporting to be a ‘‘full
disclosure’’ on time, by 7 December 2002, but Hans Blix, the UNMOVIC
head, reported on 27 January 2003 that ‘‘Iraq appears not to have come
to a genuine acceptance, not even today, of the disarmament that was de-
manded of it’’.7 In response, Iraq increased cooperation – and it was here
that the veneer of P-5 unity began to dissolve. France, Russia and China
pointed to limited UNMOVIC evidence as indicating the need for further
inspections, whereas the United States, and to a lesser extent the United
Kingdom, pointed to Iraqi behaviour, rather than specific evidence, as
the basis for moving from inspections to enforcement.8 US Secretary of
State Colin Powell presented a detailed dossier of evidence of Iraqi de-
ception to the Security Council on 5 February 20039 but when, on 14
February, Blix not only cast doubt on some of Powell’s claims but also
claimed that Iraq had decided to cooperate with inspectors the United
States derided the prospects of successful inspections.
Embarrassingly for the United States and the United Kingdom, the
United Nations’ agencies in UNMOVIC and the International Atomic
Energy Agency (IAEA) began to produce tentative evidence of Western
intelligence failures, visiting sites identified by the United States and the
United Kingdom without finding anything of substance.10 The IAEA de-
clared that Iraq was not in the process of reconstituting its nuclear pro-
gramme.11 The United States began to disagree openly with some of the
tactics adopted by the veteran Swedish lawyer-diplomat Hans Blix, who
had deliberately kept a greater distance from Western intelligence
agencies than had his predecessor at the UN Special Commission (UN-
SCOM), Richard Butler.12 Despite – or perhaps even because of – this
increasing gap between what the United Nations was producing (doubt)
and what the United States had sought from it (legitimacy), the United
States push to war accelerated. UK Prime Minister Tony Blair pressed

hard for a second UN resolution13 but, when it became clear that a vote
would only expose further the already public P-5 rift and that the votes
required to carry a second resolution were in doubt, the United States
and the United Kingdom acted on Bush’s September 2002 threat to the
General Assembly. Choosing to act outside the Council, the United States
and the United Kingdom unilaterally invaded Iraq on 20 March 2003.
This seemed to signal a new approach by the United States, looking to
the United Nations as just one potential source of legitimacy and support,
one coalition among many. The unique features of UN legitimacy, includ-
ing its alignment with international legality, were no doubt understood;
but in the end, if the United Nations did not offer the path of least resis-
tance for the achievement of US foreign policy goals, the United States
would dispense with it. Even during the drama, WMD appeared to
many to represent only a convenient spin for selling a decision to go to
war that – as appeared later to be confirmed14 – had already been made
in Washington. The United Nations seemed to be only a partner of con-
venience to the United States: the United States saw the existing UN res-
olutions as offering a ready-made casus belli linking Iraq with the threat
of WMD proliferation, and going to the United Nations helped to keep
the United States’ key ally, the United Kingdom, on board. It began to
appear that, without these considerations, the United States would not
have considered the United Nations as the framework for assembling a
coalition. Bush’s speech to the General Assembly on 12 September
2002,15 warning the United Nations of an imminent choice between sup-
porting the United States or being deemed irrelevant, had not been idle
talk: when the UN Security Council did not, ultimately, offer the United
States the legitimacy it had hoped for, it had little to offer the United
States, which chose rather to act outside the UN framework.
Lawrence Freedman has characterized the invasion of Iraq as ‘‘some-
thing of an experiment’’ by the Western powers, using a pre-emptive
strategy rather than a responsive one.16 But it was equally an experiment
in US–UN relations, in which the United States tested whether UN legit-
imacy would offer the path of least resistance to the achievement of its
foreign policy goals. Instead, it offered significant resistance, and so, in
the end, was jettisoned from US plans.
20 March 2003 to 19 August 2003: The United Nations

sidelined
The US-led invasion of Iraq, which highlighted the willingness on the

part of the United States to bypass the United Nations, brought to a
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 361
head two growing sources of criticism of the United Nations. One cri-
tique held that the failure of the United Nations’ inspections-plus-
sanctions approach to Iraq proved the United Nations’ ineffectiveness
and growing irrelevance. Another held, almost conversely, that it was
the United Nations’ failure to contain the United States, rather than
Iraq, that proved its ineffectiveness and irrelevance. So serious was this
crisis of legitimacy that the Secretary-General decided to establish a
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, which reported in
December 2004, presenting member states with a number of ideas and
options for more effective UN action against global threats, including
suggestions for institutional reform. As we go to print, the ultimate out-
come of these creative recommendations remains in doubt, with the Sep-
tember 2005 World Summit having balked at clearly ruling in – or out –
many of the key reforms countenanced, with the notable exception of
accepting the creation of a Peace-Building Commission to coordinate
post-conflict recovery policy.
For most of 2003, the United Nations was largely sidelined on security
issues in Iraq. In early April, Secretary-General Kofi Annan appointed
Rafeeuddin Ahmed – a low-key, senior Pakistani UN official with devel-
opment experience and admired for his wisdom – as his Special Adviser
to coordinate thinking on the role the United Nations could play in post-
conflict Iraq. This was highly controversial, because any significant UN
presence could arguably be seen as retrospectively legitimating the coali-
tion invasion. However, at a senior level the majority UN view was that,
regardless of the legality of the coalition action, the United Nations could
not shirk its humanitarian and peacebuilding vocations in Iraq. The coali-
tion, however, seemed uninterested in any significant UN role beyond
humanitarian assistance. A sensitive issue was the role the United Na-
tions could play in political transitions in Iraq, not least respecting the
end of coalition authority and military occupation. On 22 May 2003, the
Security Council adopted Resolution 1483, which legitimized the admin-
istrative role of the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA), while re-
questing the appointment by the Secretary-General of a Special Repre-
sentative to Iraq (SRSG). The SRSG was mandated to coordinate action
in the areas of humanitarian relief, reconstruction, infrastructure rehabil-
itation, legal and judicial reforms, human rights and the return of refu-
gees, and also to assist with civilian police.17 Additionally, the resolution
authorized the CPA, ‘‘working with’’ the SRSG, to appoint an interim
Iraqi administration.18
Annan appointed Sergio Vieira de Mello, the charismatic former head
of the United Nations’ post-conflict mission in East Timor (UNTAET) to
the key post of SRSG, taking him away from his responsibilities as UN
High Commissioner for Human Rights for a projected four months.
Soon after de Mello’s arrival in Baghdad, it became clear that the United
States would allow him only a very limited role in the development of a
permanent Iraqi constitution, the holding of elections and the establish-
ment of a government (thus rejecting a template for UN involvement de-
veloped in East Timor and applied in Afghanistan). The United Nations
was therefore to be confined almost exclusively to a technical role, with
the United States continuing to call the shots. This was not to be a UN
peace operation in any traditional sense.
In this uncertain atmosphere, Annan played a delicate diplomatic
game, carefully preparing the ground so that the United Nations would
have the support it needed in the capitals that mattered to move into
action on a broader footing when the time was right (clearly not yet).
He envisaged a broad, multidisciplinary assistance operation, going even
further than past peace operations by including the World Bank and the
International Monetary Fund from the outset. In a report to the Security
Council on 17 July 2003, he set out a range of tasks that the United Na-
tions might undertake in Iraq in relation to the constitutional process,
judicial and legal reform, police training, the demobilization and reinte-
gration of former military forces, public administration, economic recon-
struction and sustainable development, and technical assistance and advi-
sory services to Iraqi ministries.19 These activities were to be discharged
by a UN Assistance Mission for Iraq (UNAMI), totalling around 300 lo-
cal and international staff. At the same time, Annan brought pressure
to bear on the coalition to lay out a clear timetable for the withdrawal
of occupying forces. Given the complex security situation in Iraq, it was
widely thought that any such withdrawal would ideally be followed by the
deployment of a significant UN security operation (if feasible in terms of
Iraqi sensitivities). Whether such a mission may one day be mandated re-
mains an open question today.
19 August 2003: The United Nations’ 9/11
On 19 August 2003, the United Nations suffered the largest loss of life of
its civilian employees in its history. A massive truck-bomb was detonated
at the corner of the UNAMI headquarters in Baghdad, directly under de
Mello’s office, killing him and 21 others and wounding 150 more. The ter-
rorist attack shocked the UN community and cast doubt over the security
of its remaining staff in Iraq. After a second attack within a month left 20
injured, and with the International Red Cross headquarters in Baghdad
soon after being destroyed by a bomb attack, Annan radically downsized
the UN presence.20 An independent inquiry condemned what it de-
scribed as a failure to provide adequate security to UN staff in Iraq.21
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 363
The bombing made clear that the United Nations’ existing security man-
agement structures were woefully inadequate and would need radical
surgery if the United Nations was to continue to play its key role within
some of the world’s hottest spots in an age of transnational terrorism.
Three key changes resulted from this report. First, in a much-
publicized move, Annan took strong disciplinary measures against senior
UN staff.22 Second, in an important but largely unheralded move away
from traditional doctrine, the United Nations countenanced engaging a
private firm to provide security for its global operations.23 Third, in Res-
olution 1546, adopted in early June 2004, the Security Council for the
first time supported the creation of a distinct component within a UN-
authorized multinational force devoted specifically to UN security.24
The attacks on UN staff made clear two other aspects of the new oper-
ational environment. First, the attacks signalled that the United Nations’
traditional image of impartiality was once again under attack, this time
from Islamic fundamentalists who saw the United Nations as a stooge of
Western interests. The United Nations had long been a target of violence
in states in which it operated. The United Nations had also learned, in
Bosnia and Rwanda, that impartiality cannot be equated with moral
equivalence among the parties to a conflict or with unwillingness to inter-
vene to prevent atrocities.25 Iraq cruelly reminded the United Nations
that some interventions would make even its most senior officials the tar-
get of violence.26 Second, the attacks drove home that terrorism posed a
fundamental threat not only to the United States but also to the United
Nations.27 The diffuse and asymmetric nature of terrorism calls for a dif-
ferent kind of international policing, with a greater focus on cooperative
regulation. As a consequence, some states are increasingly pushing to use
the Chapter VII powers of the Security Council not as the basis for UN
peacekeeping but as the basis for global legislation and regulation of ter-
rorism. This regulatory style emerged first in the 1990s with the establish-
ment of the ad hoc criminal tribunals and the Oil-for-Food programme in
Iraq, but it has moved to centre-stage with the establishment and opera-
tion of the Counter-Terrorism Committee under Resolution 1373 and
with the criminalization of activities resulting in the proliferation of
weapons of mass destruction (WMD) under Resolution 1540.28 Thus, in
the future, UN peacekeeping may have to compete for scarce resources
with other forms of UN security regulation.
Terrorism also offers an entirely new set of parameters for UN peace
operations, as the Iraq experience makes clear.29 It offers a new justifica-
tion for UN intervention, not only as a response to state failure but also
as a measure to prevent state failure lest it provide the conditions for the
incubation of transnational terrorism. The rise of transnational terrorism
may also affect the strategies of state-building adopted by the United Na-
tions, placing a premium on the short-term establishment of a strong state

that can combat terrorism, with the transition to democratic statehood re-
maining a longer-term goal.30 That inevitably risks undermining long-
held goals relating to the promotion of the rule of law in state-building,
as we have seen with the West’s frequent support for warlords in post-
Taliban Afghanistan.31 In Iraq, US support for the CIA-backed strong-
man Allawi for a time left questions hanging over the commitment of
the central Iraqi authorities to the rule of law country-wide.
One dangerous outgrowth of the 19 August 2003 bombing was arguably
an overreaction among UN staff that has risked paralysing the United
Nations’ capacity to respond meaningfully to those Iraqi needs that the
organization might best be placed to address. Grief and rage among UN
staff over the carnage ran deep. Internal criticism of Secretary-General
Kofi Annan and his senior staff for allowing a UN deployment to Bagh-
dad in dangerous circumstances grew. UN staff sought sympathy and ex-
pressed resentment at Annan’s attempts to forge a bridge between the
coalition occupiers and the rest of the international community in sup-
port of Iraqi needs. Increasingly, it seemed to be Annan’s political judge-
ment, not the United Nations’ security mistakes, that some staff were tar-
geting. Over time, this staff discontent led to perverse results. The United
Nations’ new representative in Baghdad, Ashraf Jehangir Qazi, insisted
in mid-2004 that security is ‘‘not only the first consideration, it is the first
priority, the second priority and the third priority’’ for his Baghdad mis-
sion.32 But if UN staff security is the United Nations’ only significant pri-
ority and if Annan’s margin for diplomatic and operational manoeuvre is
to be constrained by staff challenges to his judgement, the United Na-
tions will simply not be able to play much of a role in Iraq, or indeed in
any of the theatres of war where it is most needed.33
After 19 August 2003: The United Nations as escape route?
The attacks on the United Nations in Iraq in August and September 2003
were by no means isolated; they were part of a much wider deterioration
in security. The coalition appeared at times to drift from crisis to crisis,
unable to meet the most basic security needs of Iraq’s citizens and in-
creasingly abandoning its vaunted economic reconstruction objectives.34
An October 2003 resolution of the Security Council reaffirmed the ‘‘vital
role’’ of the United Nations in humanitarian relief, reconstruction, devel-
opment and the transition to representative government, but did not sig-
nificantly broaden its mandate beyond calling on the United Nations to
support the constitutional drafting processes established by the Iraqi
Governing Council.35 The resolution also authorized the presence of a
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 365
multinational security force in Iraq under US command, indicating that

the United Nations would not take over security obligations in post-
conflict Iraq any time soon. By November, however, the situation had be-
come so dire for the US-led coalition that the Bush administration was
once again ready to contemplate a significant UN role in Iraq. Annan ar-
gued that more time was needed for the security situation to be assessed
and for US plans to become clear. He waited until 10 December to name
a replacement for de Mello, even then naming only an Acting SRSG.
Coalition forces captured Saddam Hussein on 14 December 2003.
Sensing that the moment provided ‘‘an opportunity for a new beginning
in the vital task of helping Iraqis take control of their destiny’’, Annan
pressed for the Security Council to clarify the United Nations’ future
role in Iraq.36 By mid-January 2004, consensus emerged that the United
Nations should play an advisory role on the timing and organization of
elections. The coalition and Iraqi authorities were pushing for elections
before 30 June 2004, when the coalition aimed to ‘‘hand over’’ sover-
eignty to Iraqis, well before the US presidential elections in November
2004. On 3 February, Annan was invited to the White House, a sign of
how far the Bush administration’s earlier antipathy to the United Nations
had been reversed. Now, it seemed to look to the United Nations as its
escape route from the quicksand of Iraq.
By 7 February 2004 a UN team led by the Secretary-General’s Special
Adviser – Lakhdar Brahimi, a former Algerian diplomat and chief archi-
tect of the eponymous 2000 Report on peace operations – had arrived in
Iraq to discuss with the Iraqis and the coalition possible ways forward to-
wards representative government, including the possibility of elections
before the end of June 2004. The team also included the head of the
United Nations’ Electoral Assistance Unit, Carina Perelli, and two mem-
bers of her staff. By the end of February 2004, Brahimi had brokered an
understanding over the timing of elections: there was broad agreement
that they could not safely and properly be conducted before 30 June
2004. Instead, the United Nations would work with coalition and Iraqi
authorities to generate a mechanism for interim government until elec-
tions could be held, possibly before the end of 2004 if security conditions
permitted (these were later scheduled for January 2005, a highly optimis-
tic target given the deteriorating security situation throughout 2004). On
19 March, the anniversary of the invasion, the Secretary-General decided
to dispatch Brahimi to Baghdad again, in response to written requests for
assistance by the president of the Iraqi Governing Council and the CPA
administrator, to help form an interim government.37 Brahimi briefly ap-
peared to have been ordained king maker; he had managed to do what
the United States could not, engaging with Iraqi society to such an extent
that the United States had come to rely on him to ‘‘cultivate legitimacy
for a step-by-step political process’’.38 But selection of the Iraqi govern-

ment was marked by a degree of controversy, when the US-backed
Iraqi Governing Council nominated one from their ranks, a former CIA
source, Ayad Allawi, as prime minister. The broader government and
cabinet bore the stamp of Brahimi’s consultative diplomacy, with posts
carefully allotted to the main religious and ethnic groups, but the impres-
sion remained that the United States had imposed Allawi and that the
United Nations had been traduced.39
Just one indication of the extent of coalition policy incoherence was
the disconnect between the effort put into promulgating a Transitional
Administrative Law, signed into force by CPA Administrator Paul
Bremer on 8 March 2004 and containing many minority protections, and
the decision only months later to allow this forward-looking text to lapse
at the time of the hand-over to Iraqi sovereignty in deference to Ayatol-
lah Sistani’s reservations over a text that could qualify Shiite dominance
of Iraqi politics in the future.40
By mid-2004, the coalition was rocked by scandals over prisoner abuse,
which undermined its claims to the moral high ground. In a sign of how
far rhetoric and reality had become divorced, given the United Nations’
limited role on the ground, on 8 June 2004 the UN Security Council
adopted Resolution 1546 establishing a multinational force to provide se-
curity in Iraq, at the request of the Interim Government of Iraq, and giv-
ing the United Nations a ‘‘leading and vital role’’ – as the US Permanent
Representative to the United Nations and future ambassador to Iraq,
John Negroponte, described it – in the transition to democracy.41 On 12
July, Annan named the Pakistani ambassador to Washington, Ashraf Je-
hangir Qazi, as his Special Representative for Iraq, but it was not clear
what significant role, if any, he would play.
Events had come almost full circle. Like his predecessor Waldheim in
1980, Annan now was confined to using his good offices to broker an
accommodation among recalcitrant belligerents, without much geo-
strategic back-up from a still deeply divided Security Council. It is re-
markable, though, to consider how different these two ‘‘good offices’’
processes have been, and how radically different are the visions of the
United Nations’ role in maintaining world order that they reflect. Where
Waldheim and his successor used their good offices to separate two war-
ring states, Annan’s good offices addressed a complex array of challenges
at the intersection of social, political, economic and security rehabilita-
tion tasks in Iraq. The United Nations’ role in underpinning world order
has, analogously, shifted from neutral umpire between warring states to
something much more complex. Where Waldheim was confronted by a
Security Council split by bipolarity, Annan was confronted by a Council
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 367
rent by unipolarity. In the next section, we reflect on some possible

broader implications of the UN role in Iraq.
What Next?
Over almost a quarter of a century, the United Nations has slid deeper
and deeper into the quicksand of Iraq, particularly as a result of its joy-
less embrace with the United States since the end of the Cold War. By
2003 the depth of the crisis had become clear, throwing the role of the
United Nations in maintaining world order starkly into question. Al-
though the flexibility and creative potential of the Secretary-General’s
good offices were once again demonstrated to be considerable, the Secu-
rity Council revealed itself prone to both ambiguous (Resolution 1441)
and unambiguous but unhelpful (Resolution 1546) compromises that did
little to paper over deep splits within the body, instead handing unachiev-
able tasks to the Secretariat. Council pronouncements, often initiated by
the occupying powers and weakly resisted at the margins by some other
Council members, increasingly smacked of a flight from reality as the sit-
uation within Iraq continued to deteriorate.
Nevertheless, recent years of often adverse developments on Iraq sug-
gest possible new directions for the United Nations in the security sphere
in years ahead. This final section of the chapter looks at the different
challenges confronting the United Nations and speculates on possible
new directions for the United Nations, centred on its (somewhat tat-
tered) global legitimacy and its (frequently impressive) technical exper-
tise, capitalizing on its network of global regulatory mechanisms and its
pivotal, if often unsuccessful, role in state-building. Above all, the re-
forms must aim to improve the universality of the UN framework and re-
store it to its central position as a forum for the peaceful resolution of
normative differences.
The politics of state-building
Under any scenario, a meaningful UN re-engagement with Iraq will be

complex and fraught with normative and operational risk. The impetus
to capitalize on the United Nations’ experience in areas such as security
sector reform and justice sector reform will be enormous; but so, too, will
the complexity of the task in Iraq. Although the United Nations has had
a limited involvement (with mixed success) in rehabilitating these sectors
in failed states, it has never been confronted with the challenges of re-
forming the massive security apparatus of a police state in a manner con-
sistent with democratization, while, at the same time, seeing off terrorist
and ethnic threats to the existence of the state itself against a backdrop of
historically entrenched and widespread state corruption.
Perhaps most striking in 2004 was how openly the UN Secretariat
became involved with the process of political reconstruction in Iraq.
Whereas the Secretariat and subsidiary organs of the Council managed
the complex regulatory roles of inspections and sanctions prior to the
2003 crisis, the Secretariat’s role after the crisis was one of political bro-
kerage (even the search for Iraqi WMD was taken out of UN hands).
Since the end of the Cold War, UN peace operations have increasingly
been mandated in support of internal political processes, the organization
of elections and the defence of democracy, for example in Haiti, Cambo-
dia, El Salvador, Mozambique, Kosovo, East Timor and Afghanistan.42
Democracy has become both a reason for intervention and an exit strat-
egy: the holding of free and fair national elections, perhaps after a longer
democratic process of constitutional reform, marks one of the few clearly
agreed indicators of performance success in complex state-building peace
operations.
The evolutionary nature of this change has robbed it of media
coverage, although some acute observers in the academic community
have advanced helpful analysis, notably Elizabeth Cousens and Karin
Wermester, who argue – rightly in our view, though not uncontroversially
– that the type of peacebuilding in which the United Nations engages is
much more political in nature than are most developmental programmes
or narrowly defined peacekeeping efforts.43 Peacebuilding now overlaps
with state-building, an inherently political exercise that requires some
groups to be favoured over others and inevitably creates division and
perhaps even conflict.44 Brahimi’s role in Iraq in the first half of 2004
makes clear that the United Nations cannot duck the difficult choices in-
volved.
In looking to the future – even the immediate future of the United
Nations in Iraq – it is now more widely understood that the process of
state-building cannot be narrowly equated with the holding of elections.
Electoral assistance – like other specialized programmes run by the UN
Secretariat and UN agencies45 – has emerged as one of the key compe-
tencies of the United Nations, as the 200 or so related requests for UN
involvement received by the United Nations during the 1990s indicate.
At the same time, the reliance on representative democracy carries ter-
rible risks, most clearly illustrated in East Timor in 1999. And the Security
Council today understands that one election says little about the sustain-
ability of democracy. The United Nations’ expertise in this field has been
on display in the rapid and efficient work of Carina Perelli and her staff in
Iraq in 2004, although differences in judgement emerged between her
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 369
ground-up view and the politically influenced top-down view on offer in

New York, where the risks of UN involvement in a bungled exercise
weighed more heavily. Her technical report of February 200446 reflected
recognition of the complexity of timing elections in post-conflict peace
operations: held too early after an internal conflict, they may be hijacked
by extremists; held too late, and they may either never be held at all or
serve simply to consolidate the hold on power of those with initial access
to government levers. The January 2005 elections in Iraq met with mixed
success: although 58 per cent of the electorate voted, the elections were
marred by a Sunni boycott, setting the stage for a slow slide into sectari-
anism that impeded the search for constitutional consensus thereafter.47
Elections, this experience suggested, were necessary but not sufficient for
the emergence of genuine democracy; in addition, a genuine social con-
tract was needed, the result of deliberately political state-building.
A political conception of state-building requires above all strategic
planning, especially to marry the sometimes contradictory objectives of
peacebuilding and state-building. Peacebuilding may require power-
sharing; but power-sharing may prevent democratic state-building.
Peacebuilding may mean incentivizing a turn away from violence and an
acceptance of the status quo (as in Afghanistan, to a degree); but that
status quo may itself perpetuate a democratic deficit. Conversely, an
early emphasis on democratic state-building may inflame unresolved so-
cial tensions. In Iraq, for example, the creation by the coalition of an In-
terim Governing Council formed by representatives allotted by ethnic
and religious quotas – of Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds – may have served to
‘‘entrench and radicalize’’ existing ethnic and religious identities and ten-
sions.48 The coalition seems to have underestimated the challenge of cal-
ibrating these risks through its policies. The United Nations, with its ex-
perience of many post-conflict situations, will be required to do better.
If anything, the difficulties faced by the coalition in post-war Iraq have
only highlighted that the United Nations is, to adapt a phrase used by
former US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, the ‘‘indispensable or-
ganization’’ for the political management of international crises involving
the interests of several powers (internal and external, with the influence
of neighbouring countries being a complicating factor in much peace-
building).49 But the United Nations’ learning curve as ‘‘virtual trustee’’
has been steep.50 The policy content of virtual trusteeship and state-
building would benefit from the creation of a strategic planning capability
within the United Nations. Too often, peace operations arise as an ad hoc
response by the Security Council to a situation spiralling out of control.51
To be successful, state-building must address the connections between
conflict prevention and development, between human rights and secu-
rity.52 It requires the involvement of actors whose mandate has tradition-
ally been perceived as falling outside that of ‘‘peace operations’’: the

World Bank, the UN Development Programme (UNDP), even the
World Health Organization. It requires a more deliberate, whole-of-
organization approach, with the Secretary-General and the Security
Council providing leadership (and coordination). The new Peace-
Building Commission – one of the few unambiguously positive products
of the September 2005 World Summit – will offer opportunities for real-
izing just such an approach, although its capacity will be limited as a re-
sult of member states’ refusal to grant it a centralized strategic planning
capacity.
Normative challenges: Rethinking sovereignty
Structural reforms to the United Nations must adapt it to a changed

world order and will require reinterpretation of traditional norms such
as sovereignty. Although sovereignty is still the lingua franca of UN dip-
lomatic discourse, the degree of intrusiveness the Security Council was
prepared to mandate throughout the 1990s – particularly in Iraq – was
striking, responding to a sharp redefinition in practice of what constitutes
a threat to international peace and security.
The growing gap between de jure and de facto sovereignty fuels per-
ceptions of a North/South divide in world politics. It serves to intensify
concern that currently fashionable discourses on human rights and hu-
manitarianism serve as so many Trojan horses for the political interests
of the North. The United Nations’ increased humanitarian focus is, for
the South, a two-edged sword: on the one hand, it offers a basis for argu-
ing that the North should focus its resources as much on dealing with the
threats of poverty, deprivation and disease as on terrorism and the prolif-
eration of weapons of mass destruction; on the other, it offers the North a
platform to argue for greater intervention in Southern countries where
they fail to guarantee their citizens’ human security. Accordingly, when
the Brahimi Report on peace operations recommended in 2000 the cre-
ation of a new information and strategic analysis unit to enhance conflict
prevention activities, representatives of the South worried about the po-
tential intrusiveness of improved UN information management. (In con-
trast, the North worried about financial, personnel and materiel over-
commitment in the peacekeeping field.) Similarly, contemporary calls
for a revival of the Trusteeship Council to deal with situations where the
United Nations is called upon to act as a proxy administration meet with
concerns from the South about the resurrection of Northern colonialist
tendencies, and with worries in the North about open-ended financial
and military commitments. Many saw the Iraq confrontation as a clash
of civilizations; but, even more than that, it is about the emerging con-
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 371
frontation between two sets of security needs, between the North – with
its justified fear of terrorist assault on its prosperity and political stability
– and the South – with its justified fear of poverty, deprivation and dis-
ease.
Increasingly, sovereignty is coming to be seen not just as a source of
rights but also as a source of duties to provide security to individuals
and groups within society – a ‘‘responsibility to protect’’. This idea was
born from the Canadian-inspired International Commission on Interven-
tion and State Sovereignty (ICISS) in December 2001.53 However, taking
the responsibility to protect seriously would have consequences not only
for states but also for the United Nations, which has recently been side-
lined at the operational level by the existence of ‘‘coalitions of the will-
ing’’. The United Nations’ partial commitment to this responsibility in
the Outcome document of the September 2005 World Summit54 raised
the rhetorical stakes considerably; yet the test will come when troops
must be committed. Serious enforcement action now occurs only where
there is a militarily capable country or an adequate coalition of countries
willing to make available the necessary lift, troops, finance, political cap-
ital and military hardware.55 Countries working together within ‘‘Groups
of Friends’’, often spanning the North/South divide, can serve to build
support at the United Nations for intervention in specific instances.56
They can also help avoid the institutionalization of normative differences
such as those just discussed. Whether the emerging approach, which
leans more heavily on front-line action by regional organizations rather
than by the United Nations itself (for example, the Security Council’s re-
sponse to the crisis in Darfur in 2004), represents a flight from responsi-
bility rather than a sensible division of labour remains an open question.
The structural challenge of unipolarity
Perhaps the greatest imponderable in the future of UN action in Iraq,

and more generally in security issues, is how US–UN relations will de-
velop. The unipolarity produced by US pre-eminence poses a fundamen-
tal challenge to the United Nations, particularly the Security Council. But
if Iraq taught the United States and the United Nations anything, it must
surely be the extent to which they need each other. Those who, like
Michael J. Glennon, pre-emptively declared the demise of the Security
Council,57 have made the same mistake as the Bush administration: they
underestimate the long-term costs of acting outside the Council and the
framework of law.58 But the clash of visions for the United Nations’ role
inherent in speeches by US President George W. Bush and UN Secretary-
General Annan before the UN General Assembly on 21 September 2004
suggests continuing trouble in Bush’s second term, however much the
United States may need the United Nations instrumentally.59 The Dayton
Accord (on Bosnia) of 1995, brokered by Washington, was a turning-
point in UN affairs, consecrating the United States as ‘‘the supreme
power’’, according to one Security Council ambassador in early 1996.60
The challenge for the Security Council in the future will remain to en-
gage the United States on the major security challenges without acquies-
cing in dangerous initiatives; to ‘‘have the courage to disagree with the
USA when it is wrong and the maturity to agree with it when it is
right’’.61 It must ‘‘keep intact its integrity, while improving its effective-
ness’’.62 The Security Council must assert its indispensability rather than
becoming just one coalition among many available to the United States.
Iraq suggests the continuing risk for the Council that Washington con-
ceives the United Nations’ role, at best, as one of long-term peacebuild-
ing following short and sharp US- or Western-led military interventions
(the latter whether mandated by the Council or not). The United Nations
would be confined to ‘‘picking up the pieces’’, as we saw in 2004 in Haiti
and Afghanistan, which would undermine the legitimacy – and conse-
quently the effectiveness – that the United Nations retains in the security
sphere.
Performance challenges
UN effectiveness is more important to its future than is often thought on

the East River. Although much attention among UN delegates has fo-
cused on Security Council and other structural reforms to improve per-
ceptions of UN legitimacy, the ‘‘performance legitimacy’’ described by
Ramesh Thakur as deriving from good results in the field will be at least
equally vital to enhancing the United Nations’ standing with élite and
public opinion around the world.63 As we have seen, in some areas the
United Nations is well positioned to engage in complex administrative
and regulatory tasks, from electoral assistance through to the specialized
programmes of the World Food Programme, UNICEF and the UNDP.
UNSCOM and UNMOVIC also suggest that the United Nations can –
given the right political support – make such a regulatory approach
work in the security field. But the Oil-for-Food programme and the sanc-
tions experience suggest there are also serious risks involved.
The growing operational role of regional organizations in international
security, together with new legislative and regulatory roles of the Secu-
rity Council, may point to a new phase in UN peace operations that, in
the best of circumstances, might take shape in the sands of Iraq. From
what is already discernible of this new model, the United Nations might
come to play the role of independent arbiter and global security regulator
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 373
at the apex of a pyramid of regional, local, state and even civil society
regulatory mechanisms.64 This pyramidal structure might be governed
by a principle of subsidiarity, with successively higher layers taking up
the responsibility to protect as the layer below fails or is ill suited to the
task. At the same time, it will see the UN Security Council, at the apex
of the pyramid, projecting, monitoring and, where necessary, enforcing
global security regulation standards.
Where lower layers of the security apparatus fail or are unavailable
(for example in much of Asia), this approach would continue to dictate
UN operational leadership in the provision of humanitarian assistance
or even virtual trusteeship. (The international community’s combination
of active and passive approaches to northern Iraq since 1991 merits some
reflection from this perspective.) Elsewhere, the United Nations’ global
enforcement strategy may take on a more administrative and bureau-
cratic sheen, inspired by the inspections-plus-sanctions regime in Iraq in
the 1990s, although the difficulties confronted by that project must sound
a warning of the need for adequate resourcing and staffing. In yet other
circumstances, the United Nations’ role could simply be one of advice,
support and advocacy, working in partnership with governments to im-
prove the lives of their citizens. This is a role for which the UN Develop-
ment Programme, working in partnership with other organizations and
sometimes under the political leadership of the Secretary-General, seems
well suited.
The United Nations’ experience in post-war Iraq makes clear that ex-
pectations of what the United Nations can achieve there must be care-
fully managed and tailored.65 The operational environment in Iraq
stands as a catalogue of all the obstacles that a post-conflict society faces
in its transition to stable post-conflict governance: a brutalized and dis-
integrated population, society and economy, an easy supply of small arms,
large numbers of disgruntled soldiers struggling with demobilization and
reintegration, ethnic and religious divisions, corruption and terrorism.
Additionally, UN state builders face the challenge of grafting norms that
grew out of the European Enlightenment onto societies with entirely dif-
ferent historical legacies.66
Restoring universality: Avoiding the embedding of normative

differences
Behind all of these challenges, the common theme confronting the United
Nations is to find ways – through structural and procedural reform and
through normative dialogue – to restore its tattered universality. The
sense of crisis produced in 2003 by the quarter-century drama of UN–
Iraq engagement reflected concern that normative differences had

reached an impasse. The danger is one of embedding these normative
differences in social identities, setting a ‘‘unilateralist’’ United States
against a ‘‘multilateralist’’ Europe, setting the global North with its focus
on security against the global South with its focus on development, set-
ting Western capitals against Western publics, setting Northern states
against Southern social movements such as a growing grassroots Islam-
ism. The power of the United Nations for the past six decades has been
precisely that it has mediated these normative conflicts, offering groups
an international social identity – as members of the United Nations –
larger than identities based purely on these points of conflict. To be
sure, normative contestations and even ideological conflict might be con-
ducted through the United Nations, as they were during the Cold War;
but without the United Nations, or something analogous, those contesta-
tions would occur on battlefields and not in informal meeting rooms and
formal assembly halls.
Universality cannot be restored unless the United Nations reforms it-
self to give the contesting groups a voice in security decision-making. As
we have discussed, that will require reforms to the Security Council and
other processes that bring the South back in, and that ensure that the
United States appreciates the benefits of multilateralism. But, equally, it
may require more creative reforms that allow non-state actors a chance
to buy into the process. Brahimi’s success in negotiating between local
social, religious and ethnic groups and the coalition states shows that the
United Nations can play this role, given the necessary combination of
political backing and creative thinking. But absent such thinking, social
movements, particularly in the global South, will continue to feel margi-
nalized by and excluded from the UN-centred world order and will con-
tinue to attack it, as they did with devastating effect on 19 August 2003.
That risks a slide into an even deadlier quicksand than that in Iraq – a
world order structured on a politics of identity, founded on normative,
religious and ethnic differences. For six decades, the United Nations has
offered a vision of a world order transcending sectarianism, racism and
other forms of discrimination, a vision of a common political space in
which differences could be resolved peacefully. Without careful reform,
that vision may be at risk.
If one thing is likely, it is that the sands of Iraq will soon shift again,
blurring existing lines for Iraqis, the United Nations and other interna-
tional interveners. That the United Nations and Iraq will remain engaged
with each other in a variety of ways is certain. That the shape, depth and
outcome of these links will matter critically to the future of the United
Nations (and other international actors) can be in no doubt.
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 375
Notes
James Cockayne is an Associate at the International Peace Academy; David M. Malone is

Assistant Deputy Minister (Africa and Middle East), Department of Foreign Affairs, Can-
ada. The chapter does not necessarily represent the views of either author’s organization.
1. See Lawrence Freedman, ‘‘War in Iraq: Selling The Threat’’, Survival, Vol. 46, No. 2
(Summer 2004), pp. 7–50.
2. The phrase is taken from an influential Brookings Institution report, Meghan O’Sullivan,
Iraq: Time for a Modified Approach (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, 2001).
3. See Kenneth M. Pollack, ‘‘Spies, Lies, and Weapons: What Went Wrong’’, Atlantic
Monthly, January/February 2004.
4. See Bob Woodward, Bush at War (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2002), pp. 83–84, and
Plan of Attack (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004), p. 25.
5. Comments of White House spokesperson Ari Fleischer, cited in Woodward, Plan of At-
tack, p. 232.
6. Freedman, ‘‘War in Iraq’’, p. 29.
7. See Hans Blix, Disarming Iraq: The Search for Weapons of Mass Destruction (London:
Bloomsbury, 2004), pp. 141–142.
8. See Philip H. Gordon and Jeremy Shapiro, Allies at War: America, Europe and the
Crisis over Iraq (New York: McGraw Hill, 2004); and Michael Clarke, ‘‘The Diplomacy
That Led to War in Iraq’’, in Paul Cornish, ed., The Conflict in Iraq, 2003 (London:
Palgrave/Macmillan, 2004).
9. See Statement by Secretary of State Powell to the Security Council, 5 February 2003,
hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2003/02/20030205-1.htmli.
10. Blix, Disarming Iraq, pp. 157, 167.
11. Mohammed ElBaradei, ‘‘The Status of Nuclear Inspections in Iraq: An Update’’,
Statement to the United Nations Security Council, 7 March 2003, available at hhttp://
www.iaea.org/NewsCenter/Statements/2003/ebsp2003n006.shtmli.
12. See Susan Wright, ‘‘The Hijacking of UNSCOM’’, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, Vol.
55, No. 4 (July/August 1999); and see Blix, Disarming Iraq.
13. See John Kampfner, Blair’s Wars (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003).
14. See Woodward, Plan of Attack, p. 220.
15. UN Doc. A/57/PV.3, 12 September 2002.
16. Freedman, ‘‘War in Iraq’’, p. 39.
17. S/RES/1483 (2003), 22 May 2003, para. 8.
18. Ibid., para. 9.
19. See Report of the Secretary-General pursuant to paragraph 24 of Security Council Res-
olution 1483 (2003), UN Doc. S/2003/715, 17 July 2003.
20. See Dexter Filkins and Raymond Bonner, ‘‘Series of Blasts across Baghdad Kill at
Least 15’’, New York Times, 27 October 2003, Section 1, p. 1; and see Alex Berenson,
‘‘U.N. Chief Orders Further Reduction of Staff in Baghdad’’, New York Times, 26 Sep-
tember 2003, Section A, p. 8.
21. United Nations, Report of the Independent Panel on the Safety and Security of UN Per-
sonnel in Iraq, 20 October 2003.
22. See UN News Centre, ‘‘Annan Takes Strong Disciplinary Measures after Probe Reveals
Security Failures in Iraq’’, 29 March 2004. Annan refused to accept the resignation of
Louise Fréchette, who had chaired the Steering Group on Iraq that had recommended
the United Nations’ return to Iraq before the 19 August 2003 bombings.
23. See Edith M. Lederer, ‘‘U.N. Intends to Hire a Security Firm’’, Newsday, 4 March 2004.
The United Nations later backed away from this strategy: author’s interview with senior
UN security officials, July 2005.
24. See ‘‘Text of Letters from the Prime Minister of the Interim Government of Iraq Dr.
Ayad Allawi and United States Secretary of State Colin L. Powell to the President of
the Council’’, Annex to S/RES/1546 (2004), at p. 11.
25. See, especially, Report on the Fall of Srebrenica, UN Doc. A/54/549, 15 November 1999;
Report of the Independent Inquiry into the Actions of the United Nations during the 1994
Genocide in Rwanda, UN Doc. S/1999/1257, 15 December 1999; and the Brahimi Re-
port, Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, UN Doc. A/55/305–
S/2000/809, 21 August 2000, which argued for the primacy of ‘‘impartiality’’ over
‘‘neutrality’’ in peace operations.
26. Just how high became clear in early May 2004, when al-Qaeda offered 10 kg of gold as a
reward to anyone who murdered Annan or his senior Iraq negotiator Lakhdar Brahimi.
27. See, generally, Edward C. Luck, ‘‘Tackling Terrorism’’, in David M. Malone, ed., The
UN Security Council from the Cold War to the 21 st Century (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rien-
ner, 2004), p. 85; and Andrés Franco, ‘‘Armed Nonstate Actors’’ in ibid., p. 117.
28. S/RES/1540 (2004), 28 April 2004.
29. See International Peace Academy (IPA), ‘‘The Future of UN State-Building: Strategic
and Operational Challenges and the Legacy of Iraq’’, New York, December 2003.
30. Ibid., p. 6.
31. See Antonio Donini, Norah Niland and Karin Wermester, eds, Nation-Building Unrav-
eled? Aid, Peace and Justice in Afghanistan (Bloomfield, CT: Kumarian Press, 2004).
32. See Jim Wurst, ‘‘U.N. Iraq Envoy Says Security, Electoral Assistance Are Priority’’,
U.N. Wire, 23 July 2004.
33. See David M. Malone, ‘‘UN Anger over Iraq: Nobody Said It Would Be Safe’’, Interna-
tional Herald Tribune, 30 September 2004.
34. See Peter W. Galbraith, ‘‘How to Get out of Iraq’’, New York Review of Books, Vol. 51,
No. 8 (13 May 2004), and ‘‘Iraq: The Bungled Transition’’, New York Review of Books,
Vol. 51, No. 14 (23 September 2004); Seymour M. Hersh, ‘‘Chain of Command’’, New
Yorker, 17 May 2004. The abandonment of reconstruction objectives was made obvious
to all when the Bush administration sought congressional authorization to shift funding
from reconstruction to security; see Richard W. Stevenson, ‘‘Seeing Threat to Iraq Elec-
tions, U.S. Seeks to Shift Rebuilding Funds to Security’’, New York Times, 14 Septem-
ber 2004, Section A, p. 12.
35. S/RES/1511 (2003), 16 October 2003.
36. UN News Centre, ‘‘Annan Asks Security Council for Greater Clarity on UN Role in
Iraq’’, 16 December 2003.
37. See letter dated 18 March 2004 from the Secretary-General addressed to the President
of the Security Council, UN Doc. S/2004/225, 19 March 2004. President Bush had earlier
met with Brahimi in Washington to ask him to undertake this delicate mission.
38. Edward Joseph, ‘‘A Balancing Act for the UN’s Brahimi’’, International Herald Trib-
une, 15 May 2004.
39. Mats Berdal, ‘‘The UN after Iraq’’, Survival, Vol. 46, No. 3 (Autumn 2004), p. 88.
40. See Peter W. Galbraith, ‘‘Iraq: The Bungled Transition’’, New York Review of Books,
23 September 2004.
41. See S/RES/1546 (2004).
42. For the only clear-cut case in which the Security Council authorized the use of force to
restore democracy, see David Malone, ‘‘Haiti and the International Community: A Case
Study’’, Survival, Vol. 39, No. 2 (Summer 1997), pp. 126–146. See, generally, Gregory
H. Fox, ‘‘Democratization’’, in Malone, The UN Security Council, p. 69.
THE UN IN IRAQ, 2001–2005 377
43. See Elizabeth M. Cousens, Chetan Kumar and Karin Wermester, Peacebuilding as Pol-
itics: Cultivating Peace in Fragile Societies (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2001). See also
Stephen John Stedman, Donald Rothchild and Elizabeth M. Cousens, eds, Ending Civil
Wars: The Success and Failure of Negotiated Settlements in Civil War (Boulder, CO:
Lynne Rienner, 2002); and Chester A. Crocker, Fen Osler Hampson and Pamela R.
Aall, eds, Herding Cats: Multiparty Mediation in a Complex World (Washington, DC:
United States Institute of Peace, 1999).
44. See Stephen Stedman, ‘‘Introduction’’, in Stephen Stedman, Donald Rothchild and Eliz-
abeth Cousens, eds, Ending Civil Wars: The Implementation of Peace Agreements (Boul-
der, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2002).
45. Mats Berdal makes the point that Iraq has highlighted the comparative efficiency of the
World Food Programme, UNICEF, UNDP and other UN specialized agencies and pro-
grammes: Berdal, ‘‘The UN after Iraq’’, pp. 86–87.
46. See UN Doc. S/2004/140, 23 February 2004.
47. Marina Ottaway, ‘‘Iraq: Without Consensus, Democracy Is Not the Answer’’, Policy
Brief 36, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, March 2005. On the grim real-
ities of the election, see also Mark Danner, ‘‘Iraq: The Real Election’’, New York Re-
view of Books, Vol. 52, No. 7 (28 April 2005), pp. 41–44.
48. IPA, ‘‘The Future of UN State-Building’’, p. 8.
49. See Simon Chesterman, You, The People: The United Nations, Transitional Administra-
tion, and State-Building (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004); and also Simon Ches-
terman, ‘‘Bush, the United Nations and Nation-building’’, Survival, Vol. 46, No. 1
(Spring 2004), pp. 101–116.
50. See Simon Chesterman, ‘‘Virtual Trusteeship’’, in Malone, The UN Security Council,
p. 219.
51. See IPA, ‘‘The Future of UN State-Building’’.
52. See, for example, Chandra Lekha Sriram and Karin Wermester, From Promise to Prac-
tice: Strengthening UN Capacities for the Prevention of Violent Conflict, Final Report
(New York: International Peace Academy, May 2003).
53. See hhttp://www.iciss.gc.ca/menu-e.aspi.
54. United Nations General Assembly, 2005 World Summit Outcome, UN Doc. A/60/L.1,
15 September 2005.
55. Except in Africa, enforcement actions are increasingly advocated, then carried out, by
the global North, whereas traditional peacekeeping operations are executed mostly by
the global South. The industrialized countries (especially those in NATO) often provide
troops that operate under national, NATO or European Union command. The United
States in effect operates as a free agent.
56. One of the key means of securing this cooperative approach to security governance may
be reform of the working procedures – if not the structure – of the Security Council. See
Teresa Whitfield, ‘‘Groups of Friends’’, in Malone, The UN Security Council, p. 311.
57. Michael J. Glennon, ‘‘Why the Security Council Failed’’, Foreign Affairs, May/June
2003.
58. This and many related points are made in a powerful piece by Thomas Franck, ‘‘What
Happens Now? The UN after Iraq’’, American Journal of International Law, Vol. 97
(2003), p. 607.
59. See UN Doc. A/59/PV.4, 21 September 2004.
60. Interview with Egypt’s then-ambassador to the United Nations, Nabil Elarabi, January
1996.
61. Interview with Mexico’s then-ambassador to the United Nations, Adolfo Aguilar
Zı́nser, 26 January 2003.
62. Interview with Michael W. Doyle, New York, 16 May 2003.

63. See, for example, Ramesh Thakur, ‘‘How to Build a Better Brains-Trust’’, Globe and
Mail, 3 June 2004.
64. Civil society has become increasingly involved in security regulation through mecha-
nisms such as the Global Compact.
65. See IPA, ‘‘The Future of UN State-Building’’, p. 3.
66. Ibid., pp. 3–4.
Part V
International legal and
doctrinal issues
23
The war in Iraq as illegal
and illegitimate
David Krieger
The Iraqi dictator must not be permitted to threaten America and the world with
horrible poisons and diseases and gases and atomic weapons.
(George W. Bush, 7 October 2002)
I think unless the United Nations shows some backbone and courage, it could
render the Security Council irrelevant.
(George W. Bush, 17 February 2003)
We now know that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq,

despite repeated allegations by President Bush and other members of
his administration. And, contrary to President Bush’s allegation that the
United Nations showed no backbone and courage, the Security Council
did, in fact, stand up to the Bush administration’s pressure and did resist
authorizing war before the UN weapons inspectors had completed their
task. It was the Bush administration’s impatience with the Security Coun-
cil process and unwillingness to abide by it that led it to initiate an un-
authorized attack on Iraq in violation of international law. Although the
war in Iraq is widely regarded throughout the world as illegal under in-
ternational law, few consequences seem to be flowing from this in terms
of holding to account the perpetrators of the war, including leading fig-
ures in the Bush administration.
At issue is a view often articulated by detractors of the war, such as
former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, who described the war in
Iraq as a ‘‘war of choice’’ rather than a war of necessity.1 This would sug-
gest that those with sufficient power have choices in matters of war and
381
382 DAVID KRIEGER
peace in which they can initiate war without being held accountable, or,
at best, being held accountable only by the democratic process of defeat
in the next election. The implication is that an illegal war of aggression,
although it may be neither wise nor necessary, is a prerogative of power.
The two main justifications offered by the Bush administration for the
war against Iraq prior to its inception have by now been completely dis-
credited. First, administration spokespersons repeatedly pointed to an
imminent threat that Iraq would use weapons of mass destruction against
the United States or its allies, or would transfer these weapons to ter-
rorist organizations. UN weapons inspectors in Iraq prior to the war re-
ported that they were not finding weapons of mass destruction and
needed more time to complete their inspections. The Bush administra-
tion, however, continued to assert that Iraq had such weapons, despite a
lack of credible corroboration, and finally warned the UN inspectors to
leave Iraq before the United States initiated what it called a ‘‘preemp-
tive’’ war. Secretary of State Colin Powell, in his presentation to the
United Nations Security Council, asserted without question that the
United States had knowledge of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction and
proceeded to produce intelligence photographs of the sites where they
were being manufactured and stored.2 His assertions turned out to be
false.
In the aftermath of the war, despite extensive efforts by UN inspectors
and US military personnel, no weapons of mass destruction were located
in Iraq. This wholly discredited the numerous pronouncements by mem-
bers of the Bush administration that they not only knew there were such
weapons but even knew where they were located within Iraq.
The second justification for the war made by the Bush administration
prior to initiating the war was that there was a link between Iraq and
the al-Qaeda terrorist organization. The evidence establishing this link
has also proven to be false or, at best, extremely tenuous. This led the
United States to come up with new post hoc justifications for the war,
such as the assertion that Saddam Hussein was a bad man and evil dicta-
tor, even though the United States supported him despite his poor human
rights record when it believed that it served its interests to do so. Al-
though these post hoc justifications may be true, they do not make an ef-
fective case for the legality, or even the legitimacy, of an aggressive war
initiated without UN authorization.
If allowed to stand unchallenged, the US initiation of war in Iraq and
the rationale that permitted it could set an extremely dangerous prece-
dent. Such actions could also undermine the legal and normative system
to prevent wars of aggression, centred in the United Nations and enunci-
ated in the Nuremberg Principles, which were the basis for the trials of
Axis leaders in the aftermath of World War II. The Nuremberg Prin-
THE WAR IN IRAQ AS ILLEGAL AND ILLEGITIMATE 383
ciples list ‘‘crimes against peace’’ as first among the crimes punishable
under international law and define crimes against peace as: ‘‘(i) Planning,
preparation, initiation or waging of a war of aggression or a war in viola-
tion of international treaties, agreements or assurances; (ii) Participation
of a common plan or conspiracy for the accomplishment of any of the
acts mentioned under (i).’’3
The words of the US chief prosecutor at the Nuremberg Trials, Justice
Robert Jackson, are relevant. Jackson was adamant that the true test of
what was done at Nuremberg would be the extent to which the Allied
victors, including the United States, applied these principles to them-
selves in future years. In his opening statement to the court, Jackson
placed the issue of ‘‘victor’s justice’’ in context: ‘‘We must never forget
that the record on which we judge these defendants is the record on
which history will judge us tomorrow. To pass these defendants a poi-
soned chalice is to put it to our lips as well. We must summon such de-
tachment and intellectual integrity to our task that this Trial will commend
itself to posterity as fulfilling humanity’s aspirations to do justice.’’4
For Jackson, such ‘‘aspirations to do justice’’ included applying the law
equally and fairly to all. ‘‘If certain acts in violation of treaties are
crimes,’’ he stated, ‘‘they are crimes whether the United States does
them or whether Germany does them, and we are not prepared to lay
down a rule of criminal conduct against others which we would not be
willing to have invoked against us.’’5
The illegality of the Iraq war
The UN Charter is clear that wars of aggression are prohibited. Article

2(4) states: ‘‘All Members shall refrain in their international relations
from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political
independence of any state, or in any other manner inconsistent with the
Purposes of the United Nations.’’6 This prohibition on the use of force
finds an exception in Article 51 of the Charter, which allows for the pos-
sibility of self-defence.7 Article 51 states:
Nothing in the present Charter shall impair the inherent right of individual or col-
lective self-defence if an armed attack occurs against a Member of the United Na-
tions, until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to maintain inter-
national peace and security. Measures taken by Members in the exercise of this
right of self-defence shall be immediately reported to the Security Council and
shall not in any way affect the authority and responsibility of the Security Council
under the present Charter to take at any time such action as it deems necessary in
order to maintain or restore international peace and security.’’8
384 DAVID KRIEGER
It should be emphasized that this exception to the general prohibition

against the use of force is valid only in the event of ‘‘an armed attack’’
and only ‘‘until the Security Council has taken measures necessary to
maintain international peace and security’’.
In the case of the US war against Iraq, there was no armed attack
against the United States by Iraq, nor any substantiated threat of armed
attack. There was no credible evidence that Iraq had any relationship to
the 11 September 2001 terrorist attacks against the United States. There
was, therefore, no appropriate justification for the invocation of the self-
defence exception to the UN Charter’s prohibition against the use of
force. If the United States could proceed to war against Iraq on the basis
of a claim of potential future attack, it would open the door to a broad
range of assertions of potential future attacks by one country against an-
other that would justify unilateral initiation of warfare, whether or not
based on factual foundations, paranoia or simple expediency. It would
throw the international order into a state of chaos.
Further, the matter of Iraq’s failure to complete the disarmament obli-
gations imposed upon it by the Security Council following the 1991 Gulf
war was actually placed before the Security Council by the United States
for action, and the Security Council resisted US pressure to provide the
United States with authorization to use force. The Bush administration,
at the urging of Secretary of State Colin Powell and over the objections
of other administration officials, sought a Security Council mandate to
initiate what the United States called a ‘‘preemptive war’’ (but was actu-
ally a ‘‘preventive war’’ since it involved no imminent threat of attack but
sought only to prevent the imagined possibility of a future attack) against
Iraq.
The Security Council did agree to one resolution, UNSC Resolution
1441, which called on Iraq to disarm its weapons of mass destruction
(WMD) and cooperate with the UN inspectors but did not include an au-
thorization for the use of force against Iraq.9 In Resolution 1441, the Se-
curity Council indicated that it would remain ‘‘seized’’ of the matter,
meaning that it continued to assert its authority as the final international
arbiter of the use of force in the matter. When the United States went
back to the Security Council for a second and follow-up resolution to
1441, this one to provide authorization to proceed to war against Iraq,
the Security Council refused to comply with the US demand for such au-
thorization on the grounds that it wanted to give the UN inspectors more
time to finish their work.
Rather than awaiting authorization from the Security Council or abid-
ing by the Council’s unwillingness to provide such authorization, the
United States, under the Bush administration, which had been gradually
repositioning its military forces into the Middle East in preparation for
war with Iraq, abandoned its quest for UN authorization and proceeded
to attack and invade Iraq. The Bush administration sought to justify its
illegal actions on the basis of Security Council Resolution 678, a 1990 res-
olution that authorized ‘‘all necessary means’’ to uphold previous resolu-
tions related to Iraq’s invasion and occupation of Kuwait and to restore
peace and security in the area.10 The resolution authorized the use of
force unless Iraq fully complied with previous Council resolutions by 15
January 1991. This resolution was used as the legal justification for the
attack against Iraq on that date by the US-led coalition and also by the
Bush II administration for its attack in March 2003. Although the justifi-
cation is relevant, at least legally, to the 1991 Gulf war, it is basically used
as sophistry in relation to the 2003 attack.
Following the first Gulf war, Iraq accepted a ceasefire contained in Se-
curity Council Resolution 687.11 This resolution imposed certain condi-
tions on Iraq, including WMD disarmament obligations. In justifying the
2003 war in Iraq, Bush administration officials continued to rely upon
the Security Council resolutions preceding and immediately following
the 1991 Gulf war. US State Department Legal Advisers, for example,
argued, ‘‘As a legal matter, a material breach of the conditions that had
been essential to the establishment of the cease-fire left the responsibility
to member states to enforce those conditions, operating consistently with
Resolution 678 to use all necessary means to restore international peace
and security in the area.’’12
These officials further argued that the provision in Resolution 1441 in-
dicating that Iraq was in ‘‘material breach of its obligations’’ to cooperate
with UN inspectors on WMD inspections under previous resolutions, in-
cluding Resolutions 678 and 687, allowed the United States legally to ini-
tiate its attack on Iraq.13 In fact, however, Resolution 1441 offered Iraq
‘‘a final opportunity to comply with disarmament obligations’’,14 and Iraq
was doing so. Iraq was cooperating with UN inspectors on these issues,
and the arguments to the contrary, by Colin Powell and others in the
Bush administration, have since been exposed as misrepresentations.15
Most important, though, Security Council Resolution 1441 stated that
the Security Council would remain seized of the matter, thus indicating
that, without further Council authorization, there was no legal justifica-
tion for the United States and its allies to proceed to war against Iraq.16
The US-led attack against Iraq constitutes a clear undermining of es-
tablished Security Council authority in the realm of war and peace. The
attack and initiation of the Iraq war would later be described by Presi-
dent Bush in terms of the United States not needing a ‘‘permission slip’’,
presumably from the United Nations, when US security interests were
threatened.17 As was subsequently revealed, however, US security inter-
ests were not threatened, as had been alleged by the Bush administra-
386 DAVID KRIEGER
tion, and the war therefore had no legal basis. It was considered by the
opposition party in the United States to be at best a ‘‘war of choice’’.
More realistically, it was understood by large majorities of the popula-
tions of nearly all countries in the world to be an aggressive and illegal
war of the type for which Axis leaders were held to account by the Allied
powers after World War II. UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan said un-
equivocally that the war was illegal. Referring to the war, he stated, ‘‘I
have indicated it was not in conformity with the UN charter. From our
point of view and from the charter point of view it was illegal.’’18
The Security Council could have chosen to act under Article 39 of the
UN Charter to authorize the use of force against Iraq if it determined
that there had been a breach of the peace or an act of aggression. Article
39 states, ‘‘The Security Council shall determine the existence of any
threat to the peace, breach of the peace, or act of aggression and shall
make recommendations, or decide what measures shall be taken in accor-
dance with Articles 41 and 42, to maintain or restore international peace
and security.’’19 Article 41 refers to actions the Security Council can take
that do not involve the use of force. Article 42 refers to acts of force the
Security Council can take if it finds the measures under Article 41 to be
inadequate. These include ‘‘such action by air, sea, or land forces as may
be necessary to maintain or restore international peace and security’’.20
No such actions were authorized by the Security Council in relation to
the Iraq war initiated by President Bush and other US and coalition
leaders in March 2003.
The illegitimacy of the Iraq war
Despite the nearly universal understanding of the illegality of the war, it

might be asked under what conditions it might nonetheless be considered
legitimate, even if not legal. This line of enquiry takes into account the
argument that the threat of a possible attack with weapons of mass de-
struction, particularly nuclear weapons, would allow for some bending of
international law to fit the extreme dangers associated with such weapons.
In response to this line of enquiry, it seems reasonable to suggest that
evidence of the development of weapons of mass destruction, when com-
bined with further evidence of imminent intent to use such weapons, could
constitute a sufficient threat to justify pre-emptive war in an attempt to
prevent the use of weapons of mass destruction. (Would the 2001 US Nu-
clear Posture Review,21 which calls for the development of contingency
plans for the use of nuclear weapons against seven countries, suggest im-
minent threat and constitute sufficient grounds for a pre-emptive attack
by one of these states against the United States?)
Hans Blix, the former chief UN weapons inspector in Iraq, analysed

the pre-war situation in Iraq in this way:
Any government learning that a 9/11, perhaps with weapons of mass destruction,
is about to happen cannot sit and wait, but will seek to prevent it. However, such
preventive action, if undertaken without the authorization of the Security Council,
would have to rely critically upon solid intelligence if it were to be internationally
accepted. The case of Iraq cannot be said to have strengthened faith in national
intelligence as a basis for preemptive military action without Security Council au-
thorization. Saddam Hussein did not have any weapons of mass destruction in
March 2003, and the evidence invoked of the existence of such weapons had be-
gun to fall apart even before the invasion started.22
Based on this analysis, Blix concluded: ‘‘Saddam Hussein was not a valid
object for counterproliferation. He was not an imminent or even a re-
mote threat to the United States or to Iraq’s neighbors.’’23
It should be understood that, even if there had been weapons of mass
destruction in Iraq, this alone would not have been a sufficient justifica-
tion for pre-emptive war. The mere presence of weapons of mass destruc-
tion, absent evidence of imminent intent to use them, would be insufficient
to justify a pre-emptive war, let alone a preventive war. If the mere pres-
ence of weapons of mass destruction were sufficient, it would mean that
any country possessing weapons of mass destruction would be a legitimate
target of preventive attack by a potential enemy of that country. Such
logic would push all states in the direction of preventive warfare and
would substantially increase both the likelihood and the danger of such
wars. It would allow for attacks against Israel on the basis of its secret
but widely recognized nuclear weapons programme, for attacks by either
India or Pakistan against the other, and for attacks by any of the nuclear
weapons states against one another. This is, in part, why the International
Court of Justice, in its 1996 Advisory Opinion on the legality of the
threat or use of nuclear weapons, stated: ‘‘There exists an obligation to
pursue in good faith and bring to a conclusion negotiations leading to nu-
clear disarmament in all its aspects under strict and effective international
control.’’24
Following further this line of enquiry, a distinction needs to be drawn
between a state possessing weapons of mass destruction and non-state
extremist groups possessing the same weapons. In the former case, a
country has a fixed location and is therefore far more likely to be de-
terred by the threat of retaliation from using such weapons. In contrast,
the same weapons in the hands of extremists who are not easily locatable
and who may be suicidal as well, and therefore are not subject to being
deterred by threats of retaliation, present a far more dangerous threat.
388 DAVID KRIEGER
In the case both of states of concern – such as Iraq, Iran and North Korea
– and of extremist groups, however, the best remedy is surely policies to
prevent nuclear proliferation and achieve nuclear disarmament rather
than a pre-emptive war. An aggressive war could stand only as a final
barrier and one that is unacceptable and illegal unless under the mandate
of the international community through authorization by the United Na-
tions Security Council.
Given the after-the-fact findings in Iraq that there were neither weap-
ons of mass destruction nor links to extremist organizations, there was no
reasonable justification, either in legality or in legitimacy, for the US-led
war against that country. US leaders continue to make the claim that pre-
vious Security Council resolutions provide the necessary justification, but
this is a poor argument that is not borne out by scrutiny of the earlier res-
olutions and, in any event, is overridden by the fact that the Security
Council had decided in Resolution 1441 to remain seized of the matter.
The costs of the war
Defenders of the Iraq war claim that the removal of Saddam Hussein by
the rapidly diminishing ‘‘coalition of the willing’’ will make it possible for
democracy eventually to take root in the country, and that a new Iraq
will serve as a model to other countries in the region, transforming a
troublesome but oil-rich part of the world into one that is stable, peaceful
and democratic. This is an unlikely scenario, given the realities that have
ensued as a result of the war.
Although many Iraqi citizens are pleased that Saddam Hussein was
dislodged from power, the result of the Iraq war has been the death of
some 100,000 innocent civilians, severe injury to tens of thousands more,
and enormous destruction of the infrastructure of the country.25 Iraqi so-
ciety has been devastated by warfare and its citizens subjected to death,
injury, torture and humiliating abuses such as were revealed at Abu
Ghraib prison. The price for regime change has been very high in
terms of death and destruction. Iraq will now have to struggle with re-
establishing itself as a sovereign state, finding its own means of gover-
nance in a post-Saddam and post-US occupation country. As part of this
struggle, it will have to come to terms with its relationship to the United
States, which undoubtedly seeks to ensure special privileges with Iraq
with regard to Iraqi oil supplies and the continued presence of US troops
in the region, particularly on newly established US military bases in Iraq
itself. Of course, the United States has also paid a price for the war in
terms of its financial costs, currently estimated at over US$200 billion,
the death and injury of its soldiers, the spreading thin of its armed forces
to levels considered dangerous by leading US military figures, and the

loss of respect for and credibility of the United States in the world com-
munity.
A second area of equally severe costs of the war against Iraq is its un-
fortunate implications for world order in the twenty-first century. If the
US precedent of aggressive war under false pretences against Iraq is al-
lowed to stand as a fait accompli without some form of international
sanction against the United States and its leaders, it bodes ill for the con-
tinuation of the world order system established after World War II to
prevent ‘‘the scourge of war’’.26 Clearly, the United States is a key actor
in the international system and, with its overwhelming military and eco-
nomic power, it is not easy for the international community to stand up
for principles of international law against US actions that violate the UN
Charter. Yet the continued viability of the Charter demands principled
action by the members of the United Nations even in the face of US pres-
sure. One extremely important principle of law is that no person or na-
tion stands above the law. Law can be respected and ultimately enforced
only when it applies to all, equally and alike. The US-led invasion of
Iraq, under false pretences and without UN Security Council approval,
is a direct challenge to the principle of prohibition on the use of force in
the UN Charter. Had the Security Council actually authorized the US at-
tack on Iraq, it would have undermined the credibility of the United Na-
tions itself, including its commitment to the basic principles of its own
Charter.
The need for accountability
Throughout the world, there have been an ongoing series of inquiries

into international crimes committed by US and coalition leaders in ini-
tiating and conducting the war against Iraq in the form of international
people’s tribunals.27 These tribunals, in the spirit of the Bertrand Russell
War Crimes Tribunals during the Viet Nam war, are amassing evidence of
international crimes and will be reporting these to the public throughout
the world. This is an important initiative of civil society, and it promises
to help educate people and governments about the dangers and criminal
nature of wars of aggression as well as crimes committed in the conduct
of the war. Something more is needed, however, than leaving this matter
to be dealt with only by civil society. The United Nations, for the health
and integrity of the organization, also needs to initiate its own inquiry
into the nature of the US war against Iraq. This could be done either in
the General Assembly or by a committee of selected representative
members of the United Nations and brought back to the General Assem-
390 DAVID KRIEGER
bly and, through it, to the people of the world. If the facts bear out the
circumvention of the UN Charter by the United States in direct defiance
of the Security Council, at a minimum the United States should be cen-
sured for its actions. Further recommendations by the General Assembly
could include a call for reparations to the Iraqi people, prohibitions on
the United States profiting from its aggression, the disgorgement of prof-
its already obtained, and the trial and punishment of responsible US and
coalition leaders for their actions.
An early act of the Bush administration was to ‘‘unsign’’ the treaty es-
tablishing an International Criminal Court (ICC).28 Under the Bush ad-
ministration, the United States has been hostile to the ICC, arguing that
it did not want to subject US military personnel to the dictates of this in-
ternational court. In light of the US circumvention of international law in
its initiation of an aggressive war against Iraq, it becomes clearer that US
leaders were seeking to give themselves greater degrees of freedom to
commit serious violations of international criminal law without being sub-
jected to the jurisdiction of the court.
No country, even the most powerful, should be immune from interna-
tional law. The United Nations owes it to itself and to the principles for
which the organization stands not to allow the law to be violated without,
at a minimum, drawing public attention to the violations. Although a re-
port by the United Nations on illegal actions by a member state might
upset the government of that state, it would also help to draw the atten-
tion of the people of that country to illegal acts being committed in their
name. This would bear some resemblance at the international level to the
truth aspect of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that was suc-
cessfully used in South Africa after apartheid ended and Nelson Mandela
was released from prison to become president of that country.29 It would
be useful for a UN committee examining the violations of international
law in the US-led war against Iraq also to look carefully into the more
than a decade of sanctions imposed upon Iraq and the results of those
sanctions in terms of human life and suffering of innocent parties.
The Iraq war and weapons of mass destruction
At the heart of world conditions that provided the ostensible reason that
the United States went into Iraq are the extreme threats posed by weap-
ons of mass destruction. Many countries are now concerned about the in-
cendiary mix that lies at the intersection of weapons of mass destruction
and terrorism. The need is greater today than ever before to bring weap-
ons of mass destruction under effective international control, and many
countries have voiced their concern that more must be done to keep
weapons of mass destruction from proliferating to states of concern and

non-state extremist organizations. President Bush has spoken out on the
importance of preventing nuclear terrorism. His plans involve attempting
to keep what he refers to as the world’s most dangerous weapons out of
the hands of the world’s most dangerous states and extremist organiza-
tions. Bush has organized a Proliferation Security Initiative that seeks to
prevent the further proliferation of nuclear and other weapons of mass
destruction to other states and to terrorist groups.30 To accomplish this,
cooperating countries are tightening export controls, criminalizing trans-
fers of weapons of mass destruction and the materials to create them,
and making arrangements to board and inspect ships at sea suspected of
transporting contraband materials.
Bush has noted the ‘‘loophole’’ in the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty
that allows states to develop peaceful nuclear programmes that could be
converted to nuclear weapons programmes.31 He has called for the clos-
ing of this ‘‘loophole’’, although the treaty itself calls the peaceful uses of
nuclear energy an ‘‘inalienable right’’.32 Additionally, he has called for
tighter controls on nuclear materials by the International Atomic Energy
Agency and particularly international controls on the technologies for re-
processing plutonium and enriching uranium. Bush has not, however,
raised the key obligation of the nuclear weapons states in the treaty, the
Article VI obligation to engage in good faith negotiations for nuclear dis-
armament, which, more than any other single act, could limit the possibil-
ities for nuclear weapons or the materials to make them falling into the
hands of terrorists.33
A major problem in the international system related to preventing the
proliferation of weapons of mass destruction is the double standard on
nuclear weapons that the permanent members of the UN Security Coun-
cil attempt to uphold individually and collectively. Although these states
continue to maintain nuclear arsenals, all seek also to prevent other states
from developing these weapons. In the end, such double standards can-
not be maintained. It is not likely, for example, that the United States
would have initiated its aggressive war against Iraq if it truly believed
that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction that it was prepared to
use. A consequence of the Iraq war is that it demonstrates to non-nuclear
weapons states that there are advantages to possessing these weapons if
only to deter a stronger power, such as the United States, from an unpro-
voked and illegal attack. This message does not seem to be lost on either
North Korea, which announced that it has developed nuclear weapons,
or Iran, a country that appears to be pursuing a nuclear weapons pro-
gramme.
The initiation of warfare by a state possessing weapons of mass de-
struction to prevent the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction re-
392 DAVID KRIEGER
flects the ultimate double standard in the current international system. It

is a standard that ultimately cannot hold, and in the end will bring the
current international order tumbling down. In a sense, the nuclear weap-
ons states are holding the world hostage to this double standard by failing
to fulfil their obligations under the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty.
Projecting into the future a continuation of the effort to maintain these
double standards, despite long-standing obligations under the Nuclear
Non-Proliferation Treaty, suggests the possibility that aggressive ‘‘wars
of choice’’ may increase and become a regular occurrence in relations
among countries. Such a future will also increase the likelihood of the
use of weapons of mass destruction, either pre-emptively by a nuclear
weapons state or by extremist organizations intent on inflicting maximum
damage on powerful states in the only way they are capable of damaging
them, that is, by attacks on innocent civilians.
The need for action by the United Nations
The world continues to stand at a crossroads. In one direction is a contin-

uation of the status quo based on double standards related to weapons of
mass destruction; in the other direction is a world in which international
law applies to all countries, even the most powerful. The world’s coun-
tries, acting through the United Nations, must find a way to end double
standards relating to weapons of mass destruction and, at the same time,
to fulfil the promise of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty to achieve
total nuclear disarmament through the phased elimination of all nuclear
arsenals. Prohibitions already exist on chemical and biological weapons,
but the international community must find a way to ensure the viability of
these prohibitions through robust inspection and verification mechanisms.
In the short run, the war against Iraq has alerted the world to the dan-
gers of a breakdown of accepted international norms and prohibitions
against aggressive war. In the longer run, however, the resolution of this
problem will require the strengthening of the United Nations itself and
the ending of current double standards applied to the possession of
weapons of mass destruction. The starting point for addressing this prob-
lem is for the United Nations to take responsibility for reviewing and
evaluating what happened leading to the war against Iraq and to draw at-
tention to violations of the UN Charter that occurred when the United
States and its coalition partners proceeded to invade and occupy Iraq
without authorization by the Security Council. In doing so, it is likely
that the inescapable conclusion will be that the US-led war was neither
legal nor legitimate.
Some final questions
Finally, let us consider some remaining questions that might be raised

about the Iraq war.
Was it a defining moment for international law? If it was a defining mo-
ment, it was so only in calling for a clear response from the international
community that no state, including the most powerful, stands above the
law. Otherwise, the Iraq war represents aggressive warfare of a type that
has occurred throughout history. Nonetheless, we might enquire about
the right of states, individually or collectively, to remove from power a
dictator who has a long record of violating international law and commit-
ting crimes against his own people. Certainly the international commu-
nity has some responsibility in such a case, but it is a responsibility that
must be exercised with proper authorization of the UN Security Council.
Absent such authorization, there is no right under the law for a state to
proceed to intervene forcibly in the internal affairs of another sovereign
state.
Was the Security Council’s refusal to authorize war a triumphant mo-
ment for it, as some would argue, or was it an abdication of responsibility,
as others, particularly the United States, would argue? If it was a trium-
phant moment, it was certainly a hollow one. The Security Council, to
its credit, did not authorize the use of force in violation of the UN Char-
ter, but it was unable to prevent its most powerful member from acting
without its authorization. Thus, although the Security Council may have
been right, its authority was weakened by the non-compliance of the
United States, acting without UN authority, and thereby illegally, in a
spirit of exceptionalism.
Should the legal norm of non-intervention in the internal affairs of sov-
ereign states be abandoned? This norm deserves review by the Security
Council in an attempt to better delineate in what circumstances this
norm should be set aside by the Security Council. Examples of overriding
circumstances could include when genocide or crimes against humanity
are occurring or are believed, based on sufficient evidence, to be immi-
nent. A strong case can be made for establishing a UN Emergency Peace
Service, a well-trained force composed of international volunteers, which
would be available for rapid deployment upon authorization of the Secu-
rity Council to prevent genocide or crimes against humanity.34 In rela-
tion to genocide and crimes against humanity, it would be appropriate to
place limits on the veto power of the permanent members of the UN Se-
curity Council.
Does the Iraq war provide a model for future instances of controlling
weapons of mass destruction? It is a very poor model for this purpose.
394 DAVID KRIEGER
Wars to control weapons of mass destruction are costly in terms of life

and treasure, and sometimes, as in the case of Iraq, the wars may be
based on faulty information, manipulated intelligence, false premises,
misrepresentations and deceptions. The control of weapons of mass de-
struction can ultimately be achieved only by doing away with double
standards and placing all weapons of mass destruction and the materials
to make them under verifiable international control while they are being
dismantled and destroyed. This will entail the strengthening of the chem-
ical, biological and nuclear non-proliferation regimes; and this, in turn,
will require a much higher level of political will by the states currently
possessing such weapons of mass destruction.
A step backward for international law

The Iraq war has been a step backward for international law, has harmed
the authority of the UN Security Council and has undermined the credi-
bility of the United States in the eyes of the world. The United Nations is
faced with the dilemma of reasserting the post–World War II emphasis
on ending the ‘‘scourge of war’’ in the face of a disturbing pattern of uni-
lateralism, exceptionalism and disregard for international law displayed
by the United States. The international community, acting through the
United Nations, needs to establish effective limitations on unilateral
action by all states and to censure and apply sanctions to any country, in-
cluding the most powerful, that defies the dictates of international law.
At a minimum, the UN General Assembly should conduct a thorough
review of the circumstances leading to the initiation of war against Iraq,
and determine authoritatively whether that war was conducted legally
with reference to international law.
This matter cannot be left in the hands of the UN Security Council
since the United States, as a permanent member, would exercise its veto
power to prevent such a review from going forward. If the General As-
sembly deems it appropriate, it can turn to the International Court of
Justice for an advisory opinion on the matter. The UN report or advisory
opinion of the Court should be made public and widely disseminated.
The General Assembly should make proposals on preventing aggres-
sive wars in the future and on the circumstances in which humanitarian
interventions are appropriate. Were the United Nations thoroughly to
review the matter and issue a strong report, it is possible that the inter-
national community could learn from what has happened and attempt to
control such unauthorized and costly interventions more effectively in the
future.
Notes
1. See, for example, Madeleine Albright, ‘‘Medallion Speaker Address’’, Commonwealth

Club of California, 12 February 2004, hhttp://www.commonwealthclub.org/archive/04/
04-02albright-speech.htmli. Albright stated, ‘‘Because although the war in Iraq was a
war of choice, not necessity, winning the peace is a necessity, not a choice.’’
2. ‘‘U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell Addresses the U.N. Security Council’’, 5 February
2003, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2003/02/20030205-1.htmli.
3. General Assembly Resolution 95(1), 11 December 1946.
4. Quoted in Telford Taylor, The Anatomy of the Nuremberg Trials (New York: Alfred A.
Knopf, 1992), p. 168.
5. Quoted in Ann Tusa and John Tusa, The Nuremberg Trial (New York: The Notable
Trials Library, 1990), p. 81.
6. United Nations Charter, entered into force 24 October 1945, hhttp://www.un.org/
aboutun/charteri.
7. Ibid.
8. Ibid.
9. Security Council Resolution 1441, 8 November 2002, 42 ILM 250 (2003).
10. Security Council Resolution 678, 29 November 1990, 29 ILM 1565 (1990).
11. Security Council Resolution 687, 3 April 1991, 30 ILM 846 (1991).
12. William H. Taft IV and Todd F. Buchwald, ‘‘Preemption, Iraq and International Law’’,
American Journal of International Law, Vol. 97, No. 3 (July 2003), p. 559. The authors
work for the US State Department: Taft is Legal Adviser to the US State Department;
Buchwald is Assistant Legal Adviser for Political-Military Affairs.
13. Ibid., pp. 560–561.
14. Security Council Resolution 1441, operative paragraph 2 states: ‘‘Decides, while ac-
knowledging paragraph 1 above, to afford Iraq, by this resolution, a final opportunity
to comply with its disarmament obligations under relevant resolutions of the Council;
and accordingly decides to set up an enhanced inspection regime with the aim of bring-
ing to full and verified completion the disarmament process established by resolution
687 (1991) and subsequent resolutions of the Council.’’
15. ‘‘U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell Addresses the U.N. Security Council’’, 5 February
2003. Powell was later reported to have ‘‘told The Washington Post that he doesn’t
know whether he would have recommended the invasion of Iraq if he had been told
at the time that there were no stockpiles of banned weapons’’. See CBS News, ‘‘The
Man Who Knew’’, 4 February 2004, hhttp://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/10/14/60II/
main577975.shtmli.
16. Security Council Resolution 1441, operative paragraph 14 states: ‘‘Decides to remain
seized of the matter.’’
17. George W. Bush, ‘‘State of the Union Address’’, 20 January 2004, hhttp://www.
whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/01/20040120-7.htmli.
18. See Ewen MacAskill and Julian Borger, ‘‘Iraq War Was Illegal and Breached UN
Charter, Says Annan’’, Guardian, 16 September 2004, available at hhttp://www.
commondreams.org/headlines04/0916-01.htmi.
19. United Nations Charter.
20. Ibid.
21. Excerpts from the classified Nuclear Posture Review, submitted to Congress on 31 De-
cember 2001, can be found at hhttp://www.globalsecurity.org/wmd/library/policy/dod/
npr.htmi.
396 DAVID KRIEGER
22. Hans Blix, ‘‘The Importance of Inspections’’, Carnegie Endowment for International
Peace, Proliferation Brief, Vol. 7, No. 11 (2004), hhttp://www.carnegieendowment.org/
publications/index.cfm?fa=view&id=1591i.
23. Ibid.
24. ‘‘Advisory Opinion of the International Court of Justice on the Legality of the Threat
or Use of Nuclear Weapons’’, General Assembly Doc. A/51/218, 15 October 1996, p. 37.
25. Elisabeth Rosenthal, ‘‘Study Puts Civilian Toll in Iraq at Over 100,000’’, International
Herald Tribune, 30 October 2004.
26. United Nations Charter.
27. See, for example, ‘‘World Tribunal on Iraq – Platform Text’’, Istanbul, 29 October 2003,
hhttp://www.brusselstribunal.org/wti_platform_text.htmi.
28. The Treaty Establishing an International Criminal Court entered into force on 1 July
2002. The treaty was signed by President Clinton on 31 December 2000. President
Bush took the unprecedented step of ‘‘unsigning’’ the treaty in May 2002.
29. See Desmond Tutu, No Future without Forgiveness (New York: Doubleday, 1999).
30. On the Proliferation Security Initiative, see John R. Bolton, ‘‘The Proliferation Security
Initiative: A Vision Becomes a Reality’’, US Department of State, 31 May 2004, hhttp://
www.state.gov/t/us/rm/33046.htmi. For a more critical perspective, see Colin Robinson,
‘‘The Proliferation Security Initiative: Naval Interception Bush-Style’’, Center for
Defense Information, 25 August 2003, hhttp://www.cdi.org/friendlyversion/printversion.
cfm?documentID=1667i.
31. See Dana Milbank and Peter Slevin, ‘‘Bush Details Plans to Curb Nuclear Arms’’,
Washington Post, 12 February 2004.
32. Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons, entered into force 5 March 1970,
hhttp://www.armscontrol.org/documents/npt.aspi. Article IV(1) of the Treaty states:
‘‘Nothing in this Treaty shall be interpreted as affecting the inalienable right of all the
Parties to the Treaty to develop research, production and use of nuclear energy for
peaceful purposes without discrimination and in conformity with articles I and II of
this Treaty.’’ This clause may be viewed as an obstacle to achieving the non-
proliferation and nuclear disarmament goals of the Treaty.
33. Article VI of the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons states: ‘‘Each of
the Parties to the Treaty undertakes to pursue negotiations in good faith on effective
measures relating to cessation of the nuclear arms race at an early date and to nuclear
disarmament, and on a Treaty on general and complete disarmament under strict and
effective international control.’’ This critical element of the nuclear non-proliferation/
disarmament bargain has been largely ignored by the nuclear weapons states.
34. See Justine Wang, ‘‘A Symposium on Genocide and Crimes against Humanity: The
Challenge of Prevention and Enforcement’’, Nuclear Age Peace Foundation, 8 January
2004, hhttp://www.wagingpeace.org/articles/2004/01/08_wang_symposium.htmi.
24
Legitimacy as an assessment
of existing legal standards:
The case of the 2003 Iraq war
Charlotte Ku
Introduction: Legitimacy and legality
Power, legality and legitimacy are all crucial to a rule-based international

order. Politics is the mechanism that maintains an appropriate tension
and balance between these elements.1 International institutions provide
the structure for pursuing politics and provide the means to transmit the
outcomes and decisions. The 2003 war in Iraq caused widespread concern
about the future ability of the international order to regulate the use of
force because the war appeared to push legality aside with a decision
both to exercise power and to bypass the most widely recognized source
of authority for such action, the UN Security Council. But why did the
war in Iraq cause such concern when neither the exertion of power nor
the sidestepping of the UN Security Council is new? The answer can
probably be found in today’s international power structure.
With the end of the Cold War, the United States became the world’s
only superpower. This role created both new responsibilities as well as
new opportunities. But the US failure to send a clear multilateralist sig-
nal to the world created concern that nothing would or could restrain
this superpower. This concern was fuelled by the US rejection of major
international agreements such as the Mine Ban Treaty, the Kyoto Proto-
col to the Climate Change Convention, and the Statute of the Inter-
national Criminal Court. Yet, despite the harsh rhetoric, there is little to
indicate that, in fact, the United States wishes to operate without re-
straint, even the restraint of the existing UN collective security frame-
397
398 CHARLOTTE KU
work. But has the United States embarked on a course of no return with
regard to the UN security system following the 2003 Iraq war? Not so far,
and one way to measure how far the United States has strayed from the
existing system may be to assess the legitimacy of its actions.
On the eve of the US-led war in Iraq, Anne-Marie Slaughter published
a controversial opinion piece in the New York Times in which she noted:
‘‘By giving up on the Security Council, the Bush administration has
started on a course that could be called ‘illegal but legitimate,’ a course
that could end up, paradoxically, winning United Nations approval for a
military campaign in Iraq – though only after an invasion.’’ She con-
cluded the piece on a tentative note: ‘‘Overall, everyone involved is still
playing by the rules. But depending on what we find in Iraq, the rules
may have to evolve, so that which is legitimate is also legal.’’2 Legitimacy
in the case of Iraq depended heavily on what was found.
One year later, she wrote:
A year ago, when the U.S. and Britain decided to send troops to Iraq without a
second UN resolution, I argued that their action was illegal under international
law but potentially legitimate in the eyes of the international community. I set
forth three criteria for determining the ultimate legitimacy of the action: 1)
whether the coalition forces did in fact find weapons of mass destruction; 2)
whether coalition forces were welcomed by the Iraqi people; and 3) whether the
U.S. and Britain turned back to the UN as quickly as possible after the fighting
was done. A year later, I conclude that the invasion was both illegal and illegiti-
mate. The coalition’s decision to use force without a second Security Council res-
olution cannot stand as a precedent for future action, but rather as a mistake that
should lead us back to genuine multilateralism.3
Although UN Security Council Resolution 1511 (2003) authorizing UN

involvement in post-conflict reconstruction and nation-building in Iraq
brought the United Nations back into the picture, Slaughter’s conclusion
was that, because of the failure to meet what she outlined as the tests of
legitimacy, the action taken in Iraq cannot be regarded as a precedent for
future such actions. But had the tests been met, what would legitimacy
have provided? It would have provided grounds for post hoc UN ap-
proval and it might have served as a precedent for future action. Slaugh-
ter’s initial assertion that the war might be legitimate was controversial
enough, but what seemed particularly difficult for many to accept was
her view that ‘‘overall, everyone involved is still playing by the rules’’.
Perhaps the sentence should have read that, ‘‘overall, everyone involved
is still trying to play by the rules’’, but that ‘‘the rules may have to evolve,
so that which is legitimate is also legal’’. This conclusion accepts that a
gap between legitimacy and legality cannot exist indefinitely and that, if
LEGITIMACY AS AN ASSESSMENT OF LEGAL STANDARDS 399
a case can be made for the legitimacy of an otherwise illegal action, this
may indicate that the rule needs to be changed. Considerations of legiti-
macy therefore are crucial to the functioning of the law even when legal-
ity and legitimacy diverge.
Nevertheless, the war in Iraq triggered much concern that basing an
action on legitimacy, even though it was illegal, would lead to self-serving
unilateral judgements whenever multilateral authorization was not avail-
able. Yet, can a nation realistically be expected to wait for a collective
decision if it feels under threat? Slaughter addressed this problem in her
March 2003 New York Times article: ‘‘The United Nations imposes con-
straints on both the global decision-making process and the outcomes of
the process, constraints that all countries recognize to be in their long-
term interest and the interest of the world. But it cannot be a straitjacket,
preventing nations from defending themselves or pursuing what they per-
ceive to be their vital national security interests.’’4 The larger question is
whether alternatives existed that might have been more acceptable to the
collective body. The failure to explore such alternatives fully (in the opin-
ion of most voices outside the United States) is perhaps the key problem
in arguing the legitimacy of the war. A further problem is the ripple ef-
fect that the US action might have on the entire UN security system by
tempting others to follow the US example and act without specific UN
authorization.
UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan addressed this concern in his charge
to the High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change in 2003:
The past year has shaken the foundations of collective security and undermined
confidence in the possibility of collective responses to our common problems and
challenges. It has also brought to the fore deep divergences of opinion on the
range and nature of the challenges we face, and are likely to face in the future.
Specifically, he asked the Panel to:
(a) Examine today’s global threats and provide an analysis of future challenges to
international peace and security. Whilst there may continue to exist a diversity of
perception on the relative importance of the various threats facing particular
Member States on an individual basis, it is important to find an appropriate bal-
ance at a global level. It is also important to understand the connections between
different threats.5
Whether we individually conclude that the 2003 war in Iraq was legal or
illegal, the question is whether the UN Security Council system can re-
spond effectively and retain its ‘‘unique standard of international legal le-
gitimacy’’.6
400 CHARLOTTE KU
The central role of the United Nations Security Council
In 2000, the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations appointed by the

UN Secretary-General concluded that ‘‘the United Nations does not wage
war. Where enforcement action is required, it has consistently been en-
trusted to coalitions of willing States, with the authorization of the Secu-
rity Council, acting under Chapter VII of the Charter.’’7 This is how the
United Nations was envisaged to work. ‘‘Instead of being a substitute for
great powers, [the United Nations] was designed to depend on them.’’8
The great powers were to provide the means for the United Nations to
carry out its decisions. But this created a reliance on strong military
powers and an expectation that these powers would act within the con-
fines of the UN community’s interpretation of the scope of an authoriza-
tion. The effort to institute international control or oversight over the use
of national military assets is one of the less developed parts of the UN
security system. At the same time, relying on one or two large military
powers has caused much of the UN membership concern. The views of
UN scholar Ramesh Thakur well express this point of view:
there has been a perceptible undercurrent of unease since the end of the Cold
War that the will of the UNSC has been bent too easily and too often to the
wishes of the sole superpower. . . . Developing countries fear that in some sections
of the west today, the view has gained ground that anyone but the legitimate au-
thorities can use force. If this is then used as an alibi to launch UN-authorized
humanitarian interventions against the wishes of the legitimate governments of
member states, the international organization would quickly be viewed more as
a threat to the security of many countries than as a source of protection against
major-power predators.9
In the post-1945 world, the UN Security Council plays a central role in

determining both the legality and the legitimacy of uses of force. This was
recognized by US President George W. Bush in his address to the UN
General Assembly on 12 September 2002.
The conduct of the Iraqi regime is a threat to the authority of the United Nations,
and a threat to peace. Iraq has answered a decade of U.N. demands with a decade
of defiance. All the world now faces a test, and the United Nations a difficult and
defining moment. Are Security Council resolutions to be honored and enforced,
or cast aside without consequence? Will the United Nations serve the purpose of
its founding, or will it be irrelevant?10
Although the questions are pertinent, the course ultimately chosen by

President Bush to force Iraq’s compliance is one that has increasingly
been regarded as premature and beyond the scope of the authorization
of any UN Security Council mandate. This difference in view is at the

heart of the disagreement about the legality of the 2003 war in Iraq. The
United States acted alone when it became clear that no UN Security
Council resolution authorizing additional action would be forthcoming,
following France’s declaration that it would veto any such resolution.
US authorities, however, argued that there was adequate authority in ex-
isting UN Security Council Resolutions 678, 687 and 1441.
The United States’ close ally, the United Kingdom, concurred, as ex-
pressed by the UK Attorney General, Lord Goldsmith, who provided
the following legal basis for the use of force against Iraq:
Authority to use force against Iraq exists from the combined effect of resolutions
678, 687 and 1441. All of these resolutions were adopted under Chapter VII of
the UN Charter which allows the use of force for the express purpose of restoring
international peace and security.11
The British government’s interpretation was that ‘‘Resolution 1441 would

in terms have provided that a further decision of the Security Council to
sanction force was required if that had been intended. Thus, all that
resolution 1441 requires is reporting to and discussion by the Security
Council of Iraq’s failures, but not an express further decision to authorise
force.’’12
Australia’s Attorney General and the Department of Foreign Affairs
and Trade also agreed that ‘‘deployment of Australian forces to Iraq
and subsequent action by those forces would be consistent with interna-
tional law’’. The opinion was based on the authority of existing UN Secu-
rity Council resolutions ‘‘directed towards disarming Iraq of weapons of
mass destruction and restoring international peace and security to the
area. This existing authority for the use of force would only be negated
in current circumstances if the Security Council were to pass a resolution
that required Member States to refrain from the use of force against
Iraq.’’13
Iraq in 2002 raised the question of how to deal with threats that have
the potential for widespread deadly effects but that have not yet materi-
alized. This led to the debate over whether undertaking ‘‘regime change’’
in Iraq without specific international authorization to do so could be legal.
In November 2002, the Legal Adviser of the US Department of State,
William H. Taft IV, outlined the changing character of self-defence and
the possible need to rethink the rules governing self-defence. He noted
that the question of when self-defence could be exercised was not new
and he cited President John F. Kennedy’s observation during the Cuban
Missile Crisis in 1962: ‘‘We no longer live in a world where only the actual
firing of weapons represents a sufficient challenge to a nation’s security to
402 CHARLOTTE KU
constitute maximum peril.’’14 But what constitutes ‘‘a sufficient chal-

lenge’’, and who can be the judge of this in the absence of a determina-
tion by the UN Security Council? Who is responsible and accountable for
determining the appropriateness of action taken? This is the crux of the
problem related to the legality of the war in Iraq. And, in a world threat-
ened by terrorists and in which the proliferation of weapons of mass de-
struction is virtually inevitable, the question will not go away.
The answers to the question of who can decide to act in the specific
case of Iraq vary. The differences turn on the amount of reliance placed
on UN Security Council Resolutions 678 (1991) and 1441 (2002), which
were to regulate Iraq’s disarmament programme. William Howard Taft
IV argued that these resolutions provided sufficient authority: ‘‘Resolu-
tion 1441 . . . gave Iraq a final opportunity to comply, but stated specifi-
cally that violations of the obligations . . . would constitute a further
material breach. . . . Iraq has clearly committed such violations, and ac-
cordingly, the authority to use force to address Iraq’s material breaches
is clear.’’15
At the same time, Anne-Marie Slaughter noted that ‘‘a large majority
of specialists in international law believe explicit Security Council author-
ization is required to confer legality on such a military campaign’’.16 A
letter to the Guardian signed by 16 professors of international law ex-
pressed the problem: ‘‘Before military action can lawfully be undertaken
against Iraq, the Security Council must have indicated its clearly ex-
pressed assent. It has not yet done so.’’17 Among official views that the
war in Iraq was illegal, the view of the Russian Federation is a good ex-
ample: ‘‘As the legal basis for the military action against Iraq references
are made to Security Council Resolutions 678 (1990), 687 (1991), 1441
(2002). In our view the above-mentioned resolutions considered in their
entirety and in combination with other resolutions on Iraq, official state-
ments of States on their interpretation and provisions of the UN Charter
which were the basis for their adoption, show that the Security Council
did not authorize Member States in this case to use force against Iraq.’’18
Among those who did not share the majority academic view was Chris-
topher Greenwood, who wrote that ‘‘limited and proportionate action
may be taken in self-defense if and when an armed attack is reasonably
believed to be imminent’’.19 Ruth Wedgwood also dissented from the
academic majority, basing her reasoning on existing UN resolutions on
Iraq:
The founding legal framework for action against Iraq remains intact and available
to those who are willing to use it. Resolution 687 is the mother of all resolutions,
setting out the requirements for post-Gulf-war Iraq. This 1991 resolution re-
quires, in perpetuity, that Iraq give up its weapons of mass destruction and permit
verification . . . Resolution 687 designates Iraq’s acceptance of this requirement as

a continuing condition of the Gulf war ceasefire. Teeth are also supplied by reso-
lution 678, authorizing the allies to expel Iraq from Kuwait and to use force in
support of all ‘‘subsequent relevant resolutions’’ needed to restore regional peace
and security.20
The key point of contention is whether these resolutions authorized

the use of force in the case of an Iraqi failure to comply with their provi-
sions. Those opposing the war argued, first, that the resolutions did not
authorize the use of force, and then that the renewed programme of arms
inspections had begun to meet the objective of disarming Iraq. The US
and UK position was that, short of immediate and complete compliance
with the disarmament provisions of Resolution 687, regime change was
needed in order to ensure stability and peace in the region and, indeed,
in the world. In remarks to the UN General Assembly on 12 September
2002, President George W. Bush said:
With every step the Iraq regime takes toward gaining and deploying the most ter-
rible weapons, our own options to confront that regime will narrow. And if an
emboldened regime were to supply these weapons to terrorist allies, then the at-
tacks of September the 11th would be a prelude to far greater horrors.21
Although relying on UN Security Council Resolutions 678, 687 and 1441

as the bases for action, President Bush also based his action on the ‘‘sov-
ereign authority [of the United States] to use force in assuring its own na-
tional security’’.22 This latter point, coupled with the present power of
the US military, has caused worldwide concern about whether the United
States intends to break away from the UN security system that it helped
to create after World War II in order to address other ‘‘deviant states’’
that it might regard as a threat to its own or the world’s security. Joseph
Nye wrote that the reason for thinking about preventive war is ‘‘the fear
. . . that certain deviant states, such as Iraq and North Korea, might be-
come enablers of . . . terrorist groups’’ seeking now to privatize war.23
But where does all this lead us in the long term? Does it lead to more
wars of the type we saw waged in Iraq? Does this spell the end of the
UN system seeking to restrain the use of force, which has been in place
since 1945?
The consensus remains strong in the United States – despite foreign
scepticism – that it needs multilateral frameworks. It needs them to ad-
dress the broad range of issues and areas that it knows have transnational
implications. And it needs them perhaps even more urgently in areas
where the international standard is not yet clear. One of the harshest
critics of US policy, former French Foreign Minister Dominique de
Villepin, put it well when he noted:
404 CHARLOTTE KU
Legitimacy . . . is the key to the effectiveness of international action. If we want to

develop the right answers to the challenges of the modern world and to take ap-
propriate measures – including the use of force – we must do so with the authority
of collective decisions.24
The present urgent international task is therefore to maintain a multi-

lateral structure within which states can disagree. As with any political
contest, winners and losers in a situation must maintain sufficient com-
mon purpose and interest to make it possible to work together in the
future. Power disparities may present a special problem when the dis-
agreement is with the most powerful member or members of the system.
Nevertheless, the United Nations’ history during the Cold War demon-
strates that this can be done. Sidestepping certain disputes comes at the
price of removing some conflicts from the United Nations’ field of re-
sponsibility. But, as the end of the Cold War showed, having the institu-
tion available and capable when political conditions are right for it to
play a more active role is also important and should not be overlooked –
not by the United States and not by critics of the United States. Although
there is a serious disagreement among the most important UN members,
all have a stake in maintaining a security role for the United Nations and
should be careful not to destroy it.
The war in Iraq and its aftermath pose a serious challenge to the UN
system, but the system thus far still remains. Whether that system will
be effective in addressing the security concerns of the future will depend
on whether UN members are willing to work with each other to make
it so.
Establishing legitimacy
In 2001, the International Commission on Intervention and State Sover-
eignty initiated by the Canadian government noted that, although linked,
legality and legitimacy were not synonymous and that legitimacy takes on
increased significance when the law is unsettled.25 But what happens if
the chief source of legitimacy happens to be the same body that confers
international legality on an action but finds that it can provide neither le-
gality nor legitimacy? This was the case with the 2003 Iraq war, since the
UN Security Council declined explicitly to authorize the war in Iraq,
making the war illegal in the eyes of many. And are we on the verge of
facing more such cases where the United Nations is unwilling to autho-
rize action but some state or group of states nevertheless feels compelled
to act? The 2003 Iraq war was not the first time this question arose.
Under very different conditions, but addressing the United Nations’
failure to act in Rwanda in the wake of the 1999 Operation Allied Force
in Kosovo, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan asked:
To those for whom the greatest threat to the future of international order is the
use of force in the absence of a Security Council mandate, one might say: leave
Kosovo aside for a moment, and think about Rwanda. Imagine for one moment
that, in those dark days and hours leading up to the genocide, there had been a
coalition of states ready and willing to act in defence of the Tutsi population, but
the council had refused or delayed giving the green light. Should such a coalition
then have stood idly by while the horror unfolded?
To those for whom the Kosovo action heralded a new era when states and
groups of states can take military action outside the established mechanisms for
enforcing international law, one might equally ask: Is there not a danger of such
interventions undermining the imperfect, yet resilient security system created
after the second world war, and of setting dangerous precedents for future inter-
ventions without a clear criterion to decide who might invoke these precedents
and in what circumstances?26
The dilemma the Secretary-General posed about the adequacy of the UN

security system to respond to security concerns unforeseen by the Char-
ter’s founders is a crucial one and existed before the questions raised by
the 2003 Iraq war. A rigid requirement of Security Council authorization
for military forces to be used legally could preclude, and has precluded,
their use when morality and international law would otherwise seem to
require it, as in humanitarian emergencies. On the other hand, authoriza-
tion of the use of military force on an ad hoc basis by bodies or groups of
states other than the Security Council or action taken by a single state
put at risk the decision-making structure of the present international se-
curity system. Since NATO’s actions in 1999, for example, new claims to
be a legitimate source of authorization have already been made, notably
in 2000 by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS),
which adopted a protocol explicitly stating that the ECOWAS Council
could authorize the use of military force even without a Security Council
mandate.27
Concern over possible unregulated intervention based on the judge-
ment of a small but powerful number of states caused the International
Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty to insist on objective
evidence of a conscience-shocking situation and the conception of a ‘‘re-
sponsibility to protect’’ rather than a ‘‘right to intervene’’. The Commis-
sion’s work was guided by ‘‘a clear indication that the tools, devices and
thinking of international relations need now to be comprehensively reas-
sessed, in order to meet the foreseeable needs of the 21st century’’.28 The
Commission’s report continued that any new approach needed to meet at
least four basic objectives:
406 CHARLOTTE KU
to establish clearer rules, procedures and criteria for determining whether,

when and how to intervene;
to establish the legitimacy of military intervention when necessary and after all
other approaches have failed;
to ensure that military intervention, when it occurs, is carried out only for the
purposes proposed, is effective, and is undertaken with proper concern to min-
imize the human costs and institutional damage that will result; and
to help eliminate, where possible, the causes of conflict while enhancing the
prospects for durable and sustainable peace.29
The Commission further noted that: ‘‘In the face of legal ambiguity, lists
of possible thresholds and criteria assume increasing importance. The es-
tablishment of a set of criteria has been offered as one way to mitigate
the potential for abuse. While not legally binding, they could neverthe-
less provide a benchmark against which the legitimacy of an intervention
could be measured.’’30
These criteria produce useful general standards by which to judge any
claim to legitimate action. They seek to maintain order through rules,
procedures and criteria even when such existing standards somehow
proved inadequate. They accept the concept of necessity, although only
when all alternatives have been exhausted.31 They apply the just war
standard of acting only where there is a likelihood of success in meeting
the objectives stated. And, finally, they maintain a focus on supporting
durable solutions and institutional structures over pursuing specific na-
tional objectives and interests. These criteria well state the tests that can
be applied to actions taken outside of the generally accepted frameworks
for authorizing action and may provide the conditions necessary to con-
sider legitimate an action that otherwise fails to meet existing legal stan-
dards. Given these conditions, it would appear that legitimacy can often
be determined only after the action has taken place if the conditions that
triggered action are not observable prior to acting. This is, of course,
where persuasive and credible intelligence becomes important.
Yet, even though no weapons of mass destruction were found in Iraq,
the threat of such weapons finding their way into terrorist networks re-
mains. Are there any standards of legitimacy that might aid in addressing
such threats if existing rules and institutions appear unable to respond?
One such effort was advanced by Lee Feinstein and Anne-Marie Slaugh-
ter in the idea of a ‘‘duty to prevent’’. This would apply under the follow-
ing conditions:
First, [the duty to prevent] seeks to control not only the proliferation of WMD
but also the people who possess them. Second, it emphasizes prevention, calling
on the international community to act early in order to be effective and develop a
menu of potential measures aimed at particular governments – especially mea-

sures that can be taken well short of any use of force. Third, the duty to prevent
should be exercised collectively, through a global or regional organization.32
Again, if we put the above criteria to the test, we find that they empha-
size alternatives to the use of force and address the problem of prolifera-
tion in ways that try to bring the action back into a multilateral setting.
Should the international community fail to act through the United Na-
tions or some other widely recognized body, capable states, alone or with
allies, may be compelled to act to prevent harm from coming to their citi-
zens and others for whom they are responsible. As suggested by the re-
sponsibility to protect, the duty to prevent also begins from the premise
that individual states are responsible for the security and well-being of
their populations. However, in the case of the responsibility to protect,
states from the outside may have to act against a state that is abusing its
population, whereas, in the duty to prevent, a state may have to act to
protect its population from a potential outside threat.
The duty to prevent is also a reaction to possible threats posed by
closed societies developing weapons of mass destruction and lacking any
internal political checks on the actions of a despotic regime. The duty to
prevent seeks to legitimate early action to prevent mass murder through
the use of WMD. It attempts to establish criteria in order to determine
the existence of a threat so that the difficulty of mounting evidence to
support a response prior to an attack is overcome. If a threat is imminent,
international law allows pre-emptive action. However, in a world of
weapons of mass destruction and technology, the time available for re-
sponse once a threat materializes may be very short, rendering the classic
approach to pre-emptive action insufficient. As described in the National
Security Strategy of the United States of America in September 2002: ‘‘We
must adapt the concept of imminent threat to the capabilities and objec-
tives of today’s adversaries. Rogue states and terrorists do not seek to at-
tack us using conventional means. They know such attacks would fail. In-
stead, they rely on acts of terror and, potentially, the use of weapons of
mass destruction – weapons that can be easily concealed, delivered cov-
ertly, and used without warning.’’33
At the same time, as we have seen from the current war in Iraq, if war
is waged on such a pre-emptive basis, then evidence to justify such a war
is essential to maintain support for such war efforts on three levels: by
citizens in states that wage the war, by the population in the affected
state, and by the international community. Whatever the merits of re-
moving Saddam Hussein from power, when the United States waged
war in March 2003 on the basis of Iraq’s possession of weapons of mass
destruction, prior to the completion of the UN weapons inspectors’ mis-
408 CHARLOTTE KU
sion and without further authorization of the UN Security Council, it im-

posed a burden to find weapons of mass destruction or evidence of their
production. The failure to do so has eroded support of the effort in the
United States, overseas and within Iraq and has damaged the credibility
of both the Iraqi operation specifically and the general effort to address
the threat described above by the National Security Strategy.
Legitimacy cannot substitute for legality over the long run. Therefore,
if change to the existing system is necessary owing to new conditions and
circumstances, relevant international and domestic institutions need to
reflect seriously on how to address these new circumstances. Failure to
do so will result in the kind of unilateral state response that over time
will dissipate the advances made in multilateral international cooperation
since 1945. As UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan noted: ‘‘Whilst there
may continue to exist a diversity of perception on the relative importance
of the various threats facing particular Member States on an individual
basis, it is important to find an appropriate balance at a global level.’’34
Implicit in his view is that a balance needs to be found within the UN sys-
tem itself.
As the International Commission on Intervention and State Sover-
eignty focused on the responsibility of states and the international com-
munity to protect against gross violations of human rights, so is it the re-
sponsibility of states and the international community to protect against
the potential of mass murder through the use of weapons of mass de-
struction. The political tensions created among members of the UN Secu-
rity Council by the war in Iraq demonstrate the complexity of the current
security environment. However, both the legitimate and the legal use of
force require multilateral cooperation. Yet, militarily capable states can
be expected to seek such cooperation only if cooperation will provide
effective responses to threats as they emerge.
Conclusion
In an article titled ‘‘Unilateral Action and the Transformations of the

World Constitutive Process,’’ Michael Reisman wrote:
Actions inconsistent with the procedures prescribed for them may erode the au-
thority of the law and increase the probability of abuse. Hence the law’s ceaseless
quest for organization and institutionalization and its discomfort with and inher-
ent resistance to legally unauthorized actions, no matter how urgent the circum-
stances or morally imperative the impulse.35
Reisman continued by reflecting on the correlation between ‘‘the ineffec-

tiveness of a political system and the resort to and toleration of unilateral
action: the less effective the system, the more the impulse for and use of
unilateral action and vice versa’’.36 These two observations capture well
the dilemma faced by the present UN security system.
There is great pressure to avoid changing the existing system lest any
effort to improve it result in the destruction of even the modicum of or-
ganization and institutionalization that the UN Charter system now pro-
vides. At the same time, because the political system does not whole-
heartedly embrace this legal framework, the potential for acting outside
the framework increases. This explains why any action that challenges
the basic tenets of the present system is regarded with such hostility. It
triggers a deep worry that each move away from accepted procedure
and standards of conduct may prove to be a step towards no organization
or order at all. Understanding this, however, leaves open the question of
how change can be made in the fragile and fragmented political environ-
ment that is the UN community of states.
Arguments of legality should not cloud assessments of the adequacy of
multilateral institutions to meet ongoing and emerging needs. Though the
tests for legitimacy in Iraq may have proven empty, the questions of se-
curity posed throughout the debate about going to war in Iraq may still
require attention. These issues included that of closed societies subject
to no internal controls developing and brandishing weapons of mass de-
struction. But if this is the concern, then the need should be clearly
spelled out and subjected to legal review. In the case of the 2003 war in
Iraq, there was a widespread view that change of the kind sought by the
United States and its allies in Iraq was not warranted. For those who will
assess these actions in the future, the question will be whether change
was not needed or whether the case for change was poorly made.
US actions may have made any change more difficult, but these actions
should not overshadow efforts to assess the capacity, effectiveness and ac-
countability of the UN Security Council. This assessment goes beyond
Security Council decision-making to its ability to carry out and oversee
the decisions it makes. All of this, however, relies on the members of
the UN Security Council, and particularly its permanent members, to
provide the kind of political system that will decrease the likelihood of
behaviour outside the generally accepted framework of conduct.
It would be wise to recognize that, over time, acting on the basis of
legitimacy without legality will not contribute to orderly international re-
lations, particularly where the bases for state action may not be easily
verifiable. Legitimacy may provide a priori justification where legality is
debatable, but it cannot be used on a routine basis and will normally rest
410 CHARLOTTE KU
on a post bellum consensus on the causes of war, as Slaughter argued. For

such justification to have any credibility, it must be applied carefully, rest-
ing on broadly accepted standards, on clearly articulated needs and on
criteria based as much as possible on objective conditions. The action
must further be subject to outside review, including assessing whether
the stated goals of an operation have been achieved and whether the
conduct of the operation was appropriate and acceptable. Providing a
framework for ongoing interaction between the states that opted to act
and those that did not is particularly important at a time of change when
existing standards may be in flux.
Understanding the differences between legality and legitimacy may
provide an immediate answer on whether or not permanent change is re-
quired where the existing framework appears inadequate. Whatever the
answer, states must work to bring legitimacy and legality back together
following any significant episode of acting outside the framework. How-
ever, this can happen only if institutions are willing and able to recognize
new needs and to respond to them. As the debate over humanitarian in-
tervention demonstrated, the credibility of the UN system rests not just
on how effectively it can constrain its members but also, and perhaps
more significantly, on how well it can enable states to take appropriate
preventive and other measures to forestall threats to peace and security.
Under the influence of globalization, the speed with which threats can
materialize and the scope of the damage that can be done have increased.
The ability of states to stave off such attacks will need to adapt at a com-
parable pace, and this may include the adaptation of the institutions they
rely on to provide security both for prevention and for protection.
Notes
1. See Andreas Paulus, ‘‘The War against Iraq and the Future of International Law: He-
gemony or Pluralism?’’, Michigan Journal of International Law, Vol. 25 (Spring 2004),
pp. 732–733.
2. Anne-Marie Slaughter, ‘‘Good Reasons for Going around the U.N.’’, New York Times,
18 March 2003.
3. Anne-Marie Slaughter, ‘‘Reflecting on the War in Iraq One Year Later’’, ASIL News-
letter, March/April 2004, p. 2.
4. Slaughter, ‘‘Good Reasons for Going around the U.N.’’.
5. ‘‘Secretary-General Names High-Level Panel to Study Global Security Threats, and
Recommend Necessary Changes’’, UN Press Release SG/A/857, 11 April 2003.
6. ‘‘Jim Carter Becomes ASIL’s 41st President’’, ASIL Newsletter, May/July 2004, p. 10.
7. Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations, UN Doc. A/55/305–S/2000/809,
21 August 2000, para. 53, p. 10.
8. Anne-Marie Slaughter, ‘‘The Will That Makes It Work’’, Washington Post, 2 March
2003, p. B3.
9. Ramesh Thakur and Dipankar Banerjee, ‘‘India: Democratic, Poor, Internationalist’’, in

Charlotte Ku and Harold K. Jacobson, eds, Democratic Accountability and the Use of
Force in International Law (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), p. 204.
10. George W. Bush, ‘‘Remarks by the President in Address to United Nations General
Assembly’’, 12 September 2002, USUN Press Release 131 (02), hhttp://www.un.int/usa/
02_131.htmi.
11. Lord Goldsmith, ‘‘Legal Basis for Use of Force against Iraq’’, 17 March 2003, hhttp://
www.pmo.gov.uk/output/Page3287.aspi.
12. Ibid.
13. ‘‘Memorandum of Advice on the Use of Force against Iraq, provided by the Attorney
General’s Department and the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, March 18,
2003’’, available at hhttp://www.pm.gov.au/iraqi (accessed 5 November 2004).
14. As quoted in William H. Taft IV, ‘‘The Legal Basis for Preemption’’, Memorandum to
Members of the ASIL-CFR Roundtable on Old Rules, New Threats, 18 November
2002, hhttp://www.cfr.org/publication/5250/legal_basis_for_preemption.htmli.
15. As quoted in Peter Slevin, ‘‘U.S. Says War Has Legal Basis’’, Washington Post,
21 March 2003, p. A14.
16. Ibid.
17. ‘‘War Would Be Illegal’’, Guardian, 7 March 2003.
18. Legal Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation, ‘‘Legal
Assessment of the Use of Force against Iraq’’, reprinted in ‘‘Current Developments:
Public International Law’’, International and Comparative Law Quarterly, Vol. 52
(October 2003), p. 1059.
19. As quoted in ‘‘Why the Sword Is Mightier Than the Law’’, Telegraph, 19 March 2003.
20. Ruth Wedgwood, ‘‘Comment & Analysis: Legal Authority Exists for a Strike on Iraq’’,
Financial Times, 14 March 2003, p. 1.
21. Bush, ‘‘Remarks by the President in Address to United Nations General Assembly’’.
22. ‘‘President Says Saddam Hussein Must Leave Iraq Within 48 Hours: Remarks by the
President in Address to the Nation’’, 17 March 2003, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/
releases/2003/03/20030317-7.htmli.
23. Joseph S. Nye, ‘‘Before War’’, Washington Post, 14 March 2003, p. A27.
24. Dominique de Villepin, ‘‘Law, Force and Justice’’, International Institute for Stra-
tegic Studies Annual Lecture, 27 March 2003, hhttp://www.iiss.org/showdocument.
php?docID=114i.
25. The Responsibility to Protect: Research, Bibliography, Background. Supplementary Vol-
ume to the Report of the International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty
(Ottawa: The International Development Research Centre, December 2001), section
C.7, hhttp://www.iciss.ca/00_Intro-en.aspi.
26. Kofi Annan, ‘‘Two Concepts of Sovereignty’’, The Economist, 18 September 1999,
p. 49.
27. As reprinted in Journal of Conflict & Security Law, Vol. 5, No. 2 (December 2000), pp.
231–259.
28. The Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International Commission on Intervention
and State Sovereignty (Ottawa: The International Development Research Centre,
December 2001), para. 2.2, hhttp://www.iciss.ca/report-en.aspi.
29. Ibid., para. 2.3.
30. The Responsibility to Protect: Research, Bibliography, Background, section C.7.
31. See Andreas Laursen, ‘‘The Use of Force and (the State of) Necessity’’, Vanderbilt
Journal of Transnational Law, Vol. 37 (March 2004), pp. 485–526.
32. Lee Feinstein and Anne-Marie Slaughter, ‘‘A Duty to Prevent’’, Foreign Affairs
(January/February 2004), p. 137.
412 CHARLOTTE KU
White House, September 2002), p. 15, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/nsc/nss.pdfi.
34. ‘‘Secretary-General Names High-Level Panel to Study Global Security Threats, and
Recommend Necessary Changes’’, 11 April 2003.
35. W. Michael Reisman, ‘‘Unilateral Action and the Transformations of the World Consti-
tutive Process: The Special Problem of Humanitarian Intervention’’, European Journal
of International Law, Vol. 11 (March 2000), p. 6.
36. Ibid.
25
The multinational action in
Iraq and international law
Ruth Wedgwood
In the rear-view mirror of a difficult war, reassessing legality may seem

beside the point to both critics and supporters. The war for the liberation
of Iraq has unfolded in unpredictable ways for all sides. In a real sense,
the war is not yet over, even as the United Nations and coalition forces
support the attempt by Iraqi citizens to establish a working democracy
and federal structure. The ongoing terror by Ba’athist insurgents against
Iraqi citizens who have worked bravely to adopt a constitution, elect
a government and restore an economy, is a reminder of the nature of
the former regime. Students of peacekeeping may be reminded of the
parallel attempt by old regime militias in East Timor to use a scorched-
earth policy to cripple that country’s hard-won independence. In Iraq’s
nascent democracy, there is the additional challenge of an insurgency
that is in part directed and financed from across the border, by senior
Ba’athist leaders who fled to Syria in anticipation of the capture of Bagh-
dad, a reminder that some problems cannot be fully solved in isolation.
Judgements about the intervention in Iraq will inevitably have a broad
reach, beyond a spot assessment of the decision in March 2003 to pro-
ceed to the use of military force. Alongside the important questions of
legality and legitimacy, one would wish to look over time at its effect on
international institutions, security doctrine and the transformation of the
Middle East. Nonetheless, there are important observations that can clar-
ify a judgement even now.
First, a fast-forward summary. From the viewpoint of a doctrinal inter-
national lawyer, the argument in support of the March 2003 intervention
413
414 RUTH WEDGWOOD
is straightforward, even though contested by some. The justification is

founded on Iraq’s extended and stubborn failure to account for its weap-
ons programmes under the mandatory Security Council resolutions im-
posed at the end of the 1991 Gulf war. Rather than attacking Baghdad,
the coalition in the first Gulf war had hoped to demonstrate that Iraq’s
threat to the region could be contained by a monitored course of man-
datory disarmament. The disarmament and reporting requirements im-
posed by the UN Security Council in 1991 were not disposable, despite
Iraq’s remarkable history of defiance. In November 1990, in Resolution
678, the Council voted to authorize member states cooperating with
Kuwait to use ‘‘all necessary means’’ in order to expel Iraqi forces from
Kuwait and to restore peace and security in the region, as well as to ‘‘up-
hold and implement . . . all subsequent relevant resolutions’’. In April
1991, after the successful ground campaign, the Security Council granted
a ceasefire in the war. But the ceasefire was explicitly conditioned on
Iraq’s compliance with the Council’s requirements of Iraqi disarmament
and full accounting for prior weapons programmes. Iraq’s deliberate
breach of Resolution 687 over a 12-year period served to suspend the
ceasefire, leaving in place the authorization for the use of force found in
Resolution 678, as well as, arguably, an inherent right of collective self-
defence stemming from the 1991 war.
The claim that only a second act of authorization would suffice to per-
mit enforcement of Resolution 687 ignores the teeth of the original reso-
lutions. Resolution 678 authorized member states ‘‘co-operating with the
Government of Kuwait, . . . to use all necessary means to uphold and im-
plement resolution 660 (1990) and all subsequent relevant resolutions
and to restore international peace and security in the area’’. Resolution
687 was indeed a subsequent relevant resolution, and was central to the
restoration of peace and security in the Gulf. There is nothing in the text
of Resolution 687 that limits its duration or suggests expiry. Nor is there
any conceivable claim of desuetude or abandonment. To the contrary,
the enforcement of Resolution 687 was front and centre in international
debate for over a decade, consuming political and military resources that
would have had other important uses in meeting human catastrophes.
The sanctions regime imposed on Iraq was testament to the seriousness
with which the international community regarded Iraq’s obligation to dis-
arm. Any claim that Iraq was not given a fair chance to comply with the
requirements of Resolution 687 is belied by Iraq’s dangerous game of
brinksmanship over the course of a decade. This was not a voluntary re-
gime, whose force was contingent on a later ratifying act. And, as a law
professor argued in the Financial Times on 13 March 2003, ‘‘Security
Council resolutions are not yet so airy as to expire with the term of a par-
MULTINATIONAL ACTION IN IRAQ & INTERNATIONAL LAW 415
ticular secretary-general’’.1 One may note the sober voice of Sir Adam
Roberts:
How much weight attaches to the past decisions of the Security Council in autho-
rising force? If the Council authorises certain member states to undertake a task,
but is then unable to agree on follow-up action, does the original authorisation
still stand? . . . The simple guiding principle has to be that a resolution, once
passed remains in effect. In the absence of a new resolution repudiating earlier
positions (which will always be hard to achieve, granted the existence of a veto)
a presumption of continuity is plausible.2
There is nothing in Resolution 1441, voted by the Security Council

in November 2002, that suspended the force of the earlier resolutions.3
To the contrary, Resolution 1441 recorded the Council’s finding that
Iraq ‘‘has been and remains in material breach of its obligations under
relevant resolutions, including resolution 687’’. Iraq was permitted a ‘‘fi-
nal opportunity’’ to come into compliance, beginning with an ‘‘accurate,
full, and complete declaration’’ of its programmes. But the resolution
warned that false statements and omissions would, in themselves, ‘‘con-
stitute a further material breach of Iraq’s obligations’’.
Iraq’s disregard of the final opportunity provided by Resolution 1441
(and its continuing breach of Resolution 687) was in evidence in its filing
in December 2002. Once again (as so many times in the past), Saddam
Hussein spurned the obligation to give a complete accounting of Iraqi
weapons programmes. This, without needing more, sufficed as casus belli,
alongside the regime’s persistent refusal to permit any interviews of Iraqi
weapons scientists outside the country, the inspectors’ discovery that Iraq
was still deliberately violating the 150 km limit on ballistic missiles, and
the discovery that Iraq had retained growth stocks of anthrax and other
prohibited biological reagents.4
The invasion of Kuwait in August 1990 was the culmination of a long
record of aggressive conduct by the Ba’athist Iraqi leadership. The re-
gime had previously invaded Iran and gassed Iraqi Kurds in the Anfal
campaign,5 and, when faced with this dismaying record, the United Na-
tions Security Council reacted with admirable dispatch against Iraq’s in-
vasion of Kuwait, not least because of the additional threat to Saudi Ara-
bia. To point out a factor of self-interest in the world’s swift reaction to
Iraq’s attempted domination of an oil-rich Gulf is no insult to the shared
principle that other countries should not be swallowed up. The economic
facts of life, however, serve as a reminder that collective security mecha-
nisms lack any automatic supply of police power. Even where the Secu-
rity Council votes to authorize the use of force, the employment of that
416 RUTH WEDGWOOD
authority depends upon coalitions of the willing – countries willing to

raise and contribute military forces. Council authorization may be sty-
mied as well by the particular ambitions and conflicting agendas of Coun-
cil members. One may note, for example, the potential effect of Chinese
energy relationships on the Security Council’s delayed response to Ira-
nian violations of the Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weap-
ons and to Sudan’s genocidal acts in Darfur.
In August 1990, the Security Council demanded Iraq’s withdrawal from
Kuwait and imposed economic sanctions against the regime. Sanctions
and diplomacy were given several months to work. In November 1990,
the use of armed force was authorized by Security Council Resolution
678, under Chapter VII, with a 90-day time delay to permit Russian For-
eign Minister Primakov and others to undertake one final round of diplo-
macy. The potential costs of ‘‘last chance’’ diplomacy were later shown in
a dramatic discovery made by United Nations weapons inspectors. As it
turned out, Saddam had used the 90-day diplomatic interval in 1990–1991
to get ready for battle, producing and loading biological reagents into
aerial bombs and warheads.6 It was also revealed, after the fact, that,
following the invasion of Kuwait, Saddam attempted to accelerate the
production of a nuclear weapon, hoping for a weapon within a year’s
time.7 Iraq did not employ chemical or biological weapons during the
March 1991 ground war, but this may have been the result of the deter-
rence provided by US Secretary of State James Baker’s warning that
‘‘devastating consequences’’ would follow if such weapons were em-
ployed. (Whether this should be considered a belligerent reprisal is a dif-
ferent legal debate.8)
In February 1991, after a month-long air campaign, coalition forces
swept into Kuwait and Iraq with the famous ‘‘Hail Mary’’ flanking man-
oeuvre that carried allied forces around Iraqi troops. The coalition’s
pursuit of Iraqi republican guard divisions stopped short of Baghdad, al-
lowing Saddam to preserve substantial military forces. A ceasefire was
offered to the Iraqis and was formalized in Security Council Resolution
687.
This constitutive resolution required that Iraq abide by unique limita-
tions on its military capacity for the indefinite future. Iraq would have
to give up any missiles with a range exceeding 150 km, together with
any chemical, biological or nuclear weapons, and any components and
precursors. In addition, Saddam would have to provide a full and accu-
rate accounting of these weapons programmes, subject to verification by
United Nations weapons inspectors, and agree to ongoing monitoring to
prevent any reconstitution of these programmes.
The expected compliance by Iraq was not forthcoming. The UN Spe-
cial Commission (UNSCOM) on Iraq, formed under the leadership of
Swedish diplomat Rolf Ekeus, originally expected to complete verifica-

tion of Iraq’s weapons disposal within 6–12 months. But Iraq refused to
grant international inspectors open access to the records, scientists and
sites that would have permitted a rapid assay of the state of the regime’s
weapons programmes. Records were removed from sites scheduled for
inspection, travel by the inspectors was delayed and impeded, and air in-
spections were subjected to landing restrictions and, on at least one occa-
sion, a physical struggle over a helicopter’s controls. It was not until four
years later, in 1995, that Iraq finally acknowledged it had established a
research programme on biological reagents such as anthrax, botulinum
and aflatoxin. This admission was not forthcoming until UNSCOM suc-
ceeded in piecing together supplier records that showed unaccountably
large purchases of biological growth media, ultimately totalling 39 tons
(grossly excessive for medical laboratory cultures but useful in biological
weapons research and production). Admission that the programme had
proceeded to the stage of weaponizing reagents came only after Saddam
Hussein’s son-in-law defected to Jordan, with knowledge of the pro-
grammes. Skilful concealment of weapons production capability within
dual-use research and manufacturing facilities also thwarted verification.
Iraq produced a parade of last and final accountings throughout the
1990s, each sworn to be the true and complete version. Iraq’s ambassador
to the United Nations in New York showed evident chagrin when he was
reduced each time to the argument that Iraq’s admissions of prior lies
now proved its incontestable good faith.
Iraq regularly threatened to withhold future cooperation from the
UNSCOM inspectors unless economic sanctions against the regime
were lifted. France and Russia also challenged the sanctions regime, and
criticized the inspection methods of UNSCOM, suggesting that the bur-
den of persuasion lay upon UNSCOM rather than Iraq. Even after the
‘‘Oil-for-Food’’ programme was introduced in late 1996, the ambivalent
stance of these two members of the permanent five (the P-5) continued.
Saddam Hussein’s political skill was evident, as well, since any fracture in
the Council alliance was translated into resistance on the ground. The
Iraqi regime refused access to various sites of interest to the inspectors,
including so-called presidential palaces, and persistently argued that it
was up to UNSCOM to prove that Iraq still had weapons, rather than
Baghdad’s burden to show the opposite. The doe-faced claim that Iraqi
personnel had poured chemical weapons and biological reagents into the
desert sand, without keeping records of the disposal or recording the
place, was met with understandable incredulity. Attempts to study Iraq’s
methods of denial and concealment in order to avoid evasion of the in-
spection methods had limited success. The same closed Iraqi security ap-
paratus was charged with supervision of weapons research and with Sad-
418 RUTH WEDGWOOD
dam’s personal security. The situation continued to deteriorate despite

the 1997 appointment of a new director of UNSCOM, Australian diplo-
mat Richard Butler, a conciliatory trip to Baghdad by UN Secretary-
General Kofi Annan, who obtained a short-lived memorandum of under-
standing with the regime, a review of UNSCOM inspection results by
Brazilian diplomat Cesare Amorim, and the further reorganization of
UN inspection efforts (and a nearly wholesale change of inspection per-
sonnel) in a new UN group headed by Hans Blix (the United Nations
Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission, or UNMOVIC).
When Iraq refused to admit US inspectors as part of the UNMOVIC
teams, on-site inspections were terminated in late 1998. This was fol-
lowed by a brief air campaign against Iraqi military sites, dubbed Opera-
tion Desert Fox.9 Perhaps one should have expected at the outset that
Saddam was unlikely to comply with any international programme of
monitored disarmament, even after a defeat. As Rolf Ekeus has ob-
served, when a leader comes to power through stealth and violence, the
same pattern of behaviour is likely to manifest itself internationally.
There is no need to summon a controversial theory of preventive
war or pre-emptive self-defence as a basis for obtaining Iraq’s compli-
ance with a Council-mandated disarmament regime. The legal argument
against Iraq can be modest and confined. As a recidivist aggressor against
its neighbours, Iraq was assigned and accepted singular duties, under
Council Resolution 687, to shed its development of weapons of mass de-
struction, to abstain from any renewal of those programmes in perpetu-
ity, and to show the international community that it had done so. To be
sure, the attacks of 11 September 2001 challenged classic strategic doc-
trine by exposing the potential failure of deterrence against non-state
actors. Any future attacks with weapons of mass destruction may lack a
‘‘return address’’. A state could pass weapons materiel to a non-state
actor seeking to target a shared enemy, and yet avoid the matter coming
to light. Deterrence of such conduct would not be available, unless one
were prepared to announce an unprecedented strategic doctrine that
would threaten a response against any possible source of the anonymous
attack. Thus, in a brave new world of non-state actors, even where there
is no established relationship or integration between a state and a private
network, strategic deterrence may not prevent deadly hand-overs. As
with 9/11, there may be no warning of an ‘‘imminent’’ attack. It may be
a bolt from the blue, or from a container on an ocean barge.
Unlawful production of weapons of mass destruction and deliberate
evasion of reporting requirements thus posed an aggravated danger after
the occurrence of al-Qaeda’s terrorist attacks of 9/11. Earlier in the 1990s,
Iraq may (or may not) have exported chemical weapons production
to Sudan, where Osama bin Laden maintained important links.10 Iraqi
agents may (or may not) have met in Prague with a leader of the 9/11 at-
tacks. Regardless of the interpretation of intelligence sources on these
matters, the deliberate evasion of inspection requirements by an irre-
sponsible regime could not be ignored or indulged, even in 2003.
This helps to explain the willingness of the United States and its allies
to flow significant numbers of troops into the Gulf region in mid-2002,
in order to persuade Iraq that it needed to readmit the UN weapons in-
spectors and comply with the verification requirements of Resolution
687. Under Resolution 1441, Iraq was given what the Security Council
deemed a ‘‘final chance’’ to give an adequate accounting, and failed to
do so. UNMOVIC inspectors directed by Hans Blix did re-enter Iraq
and conducted some on-site inspections. Even then, the UN inspectors
could not interview weapons scientists in private or gain permission to in-
terview scientists and their families out of the country, where they would
enjoy some safeguards against retaliation. Blix was reduced to playing
needle-in-a-haystack. He could not follow the records or materiel that
might have been removed to Syria, a Ba’athist neighbour. He could not
dig up the Iraqi desert, though the intriguing discovery of a Soviet MiG
buried in the desert sand suggests that unusual storage methods were not
beyond Saddam’s imagination. Indeed, Saddam’s scientific expert on nu-
clear centrifuges admitted after the war in 2003 that he had become ex-
pert in cleansing inspection sites to thwart UNSCOM inspectors, and
had ended up burying crucial design blueprints in his own garden under
a tree.11
Shortly before the coalition’s military intervention, there was a re-
ported meeting in St Petersburg between French President Jacques
Chirac, German Chancellor Gerhard Schröder and Russian President
Vladimir Putin to discuss their positions. Several public international
lawyers from each country were reportedly invited to this affair of state
in order to attempt to frame arguments in opposition. But the fat was
thrown in the fire by President Chirac’s statement to the press on
10 March 2003 that in no circumstances would France vote in favour of
renewed authorization of the use of force.12
The Security Council was thus blocked from further action. The United
States, the United Kingdom and Australia, acting in cooperation with the
Emirate of Kuwait, decided to proceed with a military intervention, with-
out extending the UNMOVIC inspections for any further period. Factors
that may have argued in favour of an earlier start were the challenges
in maintaining battle-readiness in a desert bivouac, and the difficulties of
fighting in summer temperatures (especially in chemical protective suits,
since Iraq was believed to have chemical arms). In addition, there was an
advantage in achieving tactical surprise once the Turkish parliament re-
fused to allow the US Fourth Infantry Division to deploy on Iraq’s north-
420 RUTH WEDGWOOD
ern border, and post-war analysts have credited that surprise as a factor
in the coalition’s success in getting to Baghdad with unexpected speed.
Saddam’s calculated exploitation of the 1991 diplomatic pause also
showed the hazards of granting an adversary extra time to prepare, once
an operation was widely seen to be inevitable.
The race to Baghdad went better than anyone expected. The occupa-
tion has been difficult and costly to human life, both civilian and military.
The war planners saw the possible difficulties of house-to-house fighting
in the initial assault on urban areas. But the melting away of Iraqi forces
and the organization of a funded, well-supplied and sustained urban
insurgency in Sunni areas turned the occupation into a continuation of
combat by another name. Even the capture of Saddam Hussein in a ‘‘spi-
der hole’’ near Tikrit has not sufficed to quell the insurgency.
Still, several things have happened since the conclusion of major com-
bat operations that may cast a warmer light on events. First, there is the
remarkable and uplifting celebration of Iraqi democracy. Iraqi women
and men courageously went to the polls in January 2005, and again in
December 2005, defying the danger of car bombs and suicide attacks, in
order to cast their ballots. Their forefingers were painted with indelible
purple ink, to show that they had voted. This safeguard against double
voting provided a view of women and men proudly holding up their
purple fingers, in defiance of the repression of the old regime. Iraq’s ex-
ample was reinforced by the events of Ukraine’s ‘‘orange revolution’’,
sustained by the power of civil disobedience and public demonstration
in rebuffing outside interference in national elections.
Since that time, there has been a ‘‘domino effect’’ of democracy – as if
other regimes newly understand that their citizens will claim the same
voice. The results of a democratic ballot are not always easy in the short
run, especially in the wake of a fundamentalist Islamist movement that
has radicalized some actors. But the long-term trend toward democracy
may be the best chance to bring prosperity and stability to the region.
With the death of Yasir Arafat, the Palestinian people voted for Mah-
moud Abbas as the new president of the Palestinian Authority, upon his
pledge to rid the Authority of its debilitating financial corruption. A year
later, in 2006, the parliamentary showing of Hamas has been startling
to some observers, but its role as a governing coalition may mitigate
its radicalism towards coexistence with Israel. Saudi Arabia held munici-
pal elections in February 2005, and has indicated that women may be
permitted to vote in 2009. President Mubarak of Egypt held presidential
elections in September 2005, though his first impulse was to arrest the
most prominent opposition candidate. The people of Lebanon reacted
to the brazen assassination of former prime minister Rafiq Hariri by de-
manding an end to Syria’s 30-year military occupation of Lebanon. The
Security Council followed suit by demanding the immediate withdrawal

of Syrian troops in Resolution 1559,13 and the United Nations authorized
an astonishing investigation of Hariri’s murder that pointed to the com-
plicity of Syria’s leadership. It is too early to speak of a ‘‘Basra’’ or
‘‘Baghdad’’ spring, but the demonstration effect of the Iraqi vote has
been extraordinary.
Second, there is the impact of the United Nations High-level Panel on
Threats, Challenges and Change, commissioned by the UN Secretary-
General to assay future dangers facing the international community. The
panel members include a striking array of former international and
national leaders, including former UN High Commissioner for Refugees
Sadako Ogata, former Egyptian foreign minister Amre Moussa, former
head of the French Conseil Constitutionnel Robert Badinter, and former
Australian foreign minister Gareth Evans. One of the prime threats iden-
tified by the panel is the problem of weapons of mass destruction in the
hands of bellicose regimes.
Customary international law has never purported to limit the acquisi-
tion of weapons capability by independent states. Limits on the acquisi-
tion of biological weapons, chemical weapons and nuclear weapons have
developed as a matter of treaty law, and countries can leave those trea-
ties. But the panel faced a new and more dangerous world with the ex-
amples of North Korea and Iran, as well as the evident dangers of the
attempted acquisition of weapons of mass destruction by private terror
networks. The panel observed that there is a new type of collective threat
facing the international community, namely, ‘‘nightmare scenarios com-
bining terrorists, weapons of mass destruction and irresponsible States’’.
For the first time, the United Nations community – which reacted with
great scepticism to the United States’ National Security Strategy in 2002
– has acknowledged that weapons capacity can itself be dangerous and
potentially actionable. The acquisition of weapons of mass destruction
by an ‘‘irresponsible State’’ might ‘‘conceivably justify the use of force,
not just reactively but preventively and before a latent threat becomes
imminent’’.14
To be sure, the High-level Panel concludes that threats should be
countered collectively rather than unilaterally. But the panel also ac-
knowledges that this preference for multilateral response depends upon
the temper and sense of responsibility of Council members. The Security
Council must rise to the occasion. In considering the tension between
unilateralism and multilateralism, one may remember the Secretary-
General’s own conundrum about who could authorize humanitarian in-
tervention. In 1999, in a speech to the General Assembly, Kofi Annan
posed a more-than-rhetorical question about genocide in Rwanda and
ethnic cleansing in Kosovo. He asked what states should do if the Secu-
422 RUTH WEDGWOOD
rity Council refused to act.15 Was humanitarian intervention permissible

without Council approval? The Secretary-General’s suggestion was that
the successful maintenance of a collective system for decision-making
would depend upon the Council’s willingness to respond to threats. Quite
apart from the effect of Resolutions 678 and 687, the same point might
be drawn in relation to an irresponsible regime such as the Ba’athist
dictatorship of Saddam Hussein. As the Secretary-General noted in his
visit to Washington in December 2004, ‘‘where there is a convincing and
persuasive case, the council must face up to its responsibilities and act,
rather than create a situation where a member state feels it has to go out-
side the council to take – to get redress or to take action’’.16
As a third factor, one should note the sobering effect of post-war as-
sessments of Saddam Hussein’s weapons programmes. To be sure, the
post-war Iraq Survey Group discovered no stockpiles of chemical weap-
ons or biological weapons. But the reticent voice of former UNSCOM di-
rector Rolf Ekeus has reminded post-war observers of the central role of
Saddam’s intention and his interest in break-out capability. In an essay
called ‘‘Don’t Be Fooled, They Found More Than You Think’’, Ekeus
notes that the work of the post-war weapons inspectors ‘‘convincingly
demonstrates that Iraq’s biological weapons experts developed and main-
tained a clandestine network of laboratories and facilities within the se-
curity apparatus’’. This infrastructure for experimentation was not re-
ported in Iraq’s declaration, and this was ‘‘an obvious violation of Iraq’s
reporting obligations under UN Security Council resolution 1441’’. In ad-
dition, recorded Ekeus, ‘‘Iraqi scientists have also admitted to investigat-
ing how to improve and simplify fermentation and spray-drying capabil-
ities of BW-simulants for application to anthrax’’. Ekeus also stated that
he was ‘‘struck . . . by information on Iraq’s production of liquid rocket
fuel and oxidiser. This does seem to support the argument that Iraq had
maintained its interest in longer-range missiles (over the 95-mile range
allowed)’’.17
The ultimate challenge, notes Ekeus, is how to handle a regime leader
who seeks to engineer the lifting of multilateral sanctions in order to go
back to his interest in prohibited weapons systems. Ekeus reaches the un-
varnished conclusion that ‘‘[i]t is difficult to believe that, had there not
been a war, it would have been possible to control and monitor Iraq’s
dual-use capacities for any length of time’’. The problem was something
that no inspector could extirpate – namely, Saddam’s commitment to
weapons of mass destruction as a central stanchion of his regime’s power
and prestige. In a challenge that is unusually blunt for UN diplomacy,
Ekeus states: ‘‘I put it to those who criticised the decision to go to war
against Iraq to outline an alternative route and explain what should have
been done with Saddam’s weapons programmes.’’18
So, too, the results of the Iraq Survey Group corroborate that Saddam
had not abandoned his ambitions. Iraq Survey Group director Charles
Duelfer, who had also served as Deputy Executive Chairman of UN-
SCOM under both Ekeus and Butler, concluded that the Iraqi Intelli-
gence Service ‘‘maintained throughout 1991 to 2003 a set of undeclared
covert laboratories to research and test various chemicals and poisons,
primarily for intelligence operations’’.19 In addition, the Survey Group
‘‘uncovered Iraqi plans or designs for three long-range ballistic missiles
with ranges from 400 to 1,000 km and for a 1,000 km-range cruise mis-
sile’’. Although these were still in the design phase, this was a forbidden
enterprise and was accompanied by the importation of engines from Po-
land, and possibly Russia or Belarus, which would have supported longer-
range missiles, and by the importation of missile guidance and control
systems. The Duelfer report concluded that Saddam Hussein ‘‘wanted to
end sanctions while preserving the capability to reconstitute his weapons
of mass destruction (WMD) when sanctions were lifted’’. Yet, of course,
the regime created by Resolution 687 would not be satisfied by a momen-
tarily empty larder. Rather, it required the dismantling of WMD pro-
grammes in perpetuity. It is hard, then, to know how inspections would
quell this commitment. Inspectors, supported by 225,000 troops in the
desert, would have had to continue their work until Saddam and his heirs
had finished their natural span of years.
The final post-war development that has put the assessments of Reso-
lutions 678, 687 and 1441 into a different light is the so-called ‘‘Oil-for-
Food’’ scandal. Starting in 1997, the UN sanctions programme permitted
Iraq to sell significant amounts of oil for the purpose of raising money
for humanitarian supplies, as well as to pay reparations demanded by
the Iraqi Claims Commission, a body sitting under UN auspices in Gen-
eva. The investigative report by former Federal Reserve chairman Paul
Volcker, appointed by the Secretary-General, concluded that a UN direc-
tor of the Oil-for-Food programme obtained a cash pay-off for steering
valuable oil purchase vouchers to a favoured company.20 Oil allotments
were allegedly given by Saddam to prominent politicians of Security
Council member states, to outspoken opponents of the Iraqi sanctions,
and to two family members of a former UN Secretary-General, acting
for an Egyptian oil company. The steady flow of illicit cash to Iraq as
kickbacks on oil purchases and surcharges on contracts for the supply of
humanitarian goods meant that the regime had a steady supply of hard
currency to use as it might wish, including for the purchase of weapons
components. Thus, the Oil-for-Food scandal means that economic sanc-
tions had, in a sense, already been lifted against Iraq, at least as regards
high-priority regime purchases. There could be no guarantee that forbid-
den fruit was really out of reach, even while UN weapons inspectors
424 RUTH WEDGWOOD
might be travelling around the countryside in pursuit of a site inspection.

This re-supply chain – sustained by cash and shaped by intention – could
overcome any inspector’s ability to separate Saddam from WMD. The
breach of Resolutions 687 and 1441, as shown in the false declaration of
December 2002, was thus more than a technical failure. It was yet an-
other sign of Saddam’s totemic attachment to weapons of mass destruc-
tion as symbols of power and as a club with which to overawe his neigh-
bours and his own population. That is what Resolution 687 was designed
to prevent.
Notes
1. Ruth Wedgwood, ‘‘Legal Authority Exists for a Strike on Iraq’’, Financial Times, 13
March 2003.
2. Adam Roberts, ‘‘Law and the Use of Force’’, Survival, Vol. 45, No. 2 (2003), p. 31. See
also Adam Roberts, ‘‘International Law and the Iraq War 2003’’, Memorandum for the
Select Committee on Foreign Affairs, Written Evidence for the Tenth Report: Foreign
Policy Aspects of the War against Terrorism (London: HMSO, 31 July 2003), available
at hhttp://www.publications.parliament.uk/pa/cm/cmfaff.htmi.
3. See Ruth Wedgwood, ‘‘The Fall of Saddam Hussein, Security Council Mandates
and Preemptive Self-Defense’’, American Journal of International Law, Vol. 97 (2003),
pp. 25, 29.
4. The suggestion has been made that a ‘‘material breach’’ of a Council resolution is differ-
ent from the material breach of a treaty, and may lack the same suspensive effect. But
the Council itself has used the idea of material breach in just this way throughout the
12-year history of Resolution 687. See Ruth Wedgwood, ‘‘The Enforcement of Security
Council Resolution 687: The Threat of Force against Iraq’s Weapons of Mass Destruc-
tion’’, American Journal of International Law, Vol. 92 (1998), pp. 724, 727 and accom-
panying notes.
5. See, e.g., Human Rights Watch, Iraq’s Crime of Genocide: The Anfal Campaign against
the Kurds (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1995).
6. Report of the Secretary-General on the Status of the Implementation of the Special Com-
mission’s Plan for the Ongoing Monitoring and Verification of Iraq’s Compliance with
Relevant Parts of Section C of Security Council Resolution 687 (1991), UN Doc. S/1995/
864, p. 29, para. 75(w).
7. See Mahdi Obeidi and Kurt Pitzer, The Bomb in My Garden: The Secret of Saddam’s
Nuclear Mastermind (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley, 2004). See also ‘‘Statement by David
Kay on the Interim Progress Report on the Activities of the Iraq Survey Group (ISG)
before the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, the House Committee
on Appropriations, Subcommittee on Defense, and the Senate Select Committee on
Intelligence’’, 2 October 2003, hhttp://www.odci.gov/cia/public_affairs/speeches/2003/
david_kay_10022003.htmli.
8. See, generally, Frits Kalshoven, Belligerent Reprisals (Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff, 2005).
9. There was no additional Security Council resolution preceding Operation Desert Fox.
So, too, in 1993, US, UK and French aircraft took part in limited air attacks against
Iraqi radar sites as a means of coercing Iraqi compliance with inspection requirements.
See Wedgwood, ‘‘The Enforcement of Security Council Resolution 687’’, pp. 724, 727–
728.
10. See Ruth Wedgwood, ‘‘Responding to Terrorism: The Strikes against Bin Laden’’, Yale
Journal of International Law, Vol. 24 (1999), p. 559.
11. Obeidi and Pitzer, The Bomb in My Garden.
12. See ‘‘Interview Télévisée sur l’Iraq du Président de la République, M. Jacques Chirac
(10 mars 2003), par Patrick Poivre d’Arvor (TF1) et David Pujadas (France 2)’’, Palais
de l’Elysée, hhttp://www.elysee.fr/elysee/francais/les_dossiers/iraq/de_janvier_a_mars_
2003/de_janvier_a_mars_2003.21454.htmli.
13. Security Council Resolution 1559, 28 February 2004.
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change (New York: United Nations,
2004), p. 64, para. 194.
15. Kofi Annan, On Sovereignty and Intervention, reprinted in ‘‘Secretary-General Presents
His Annual Report to General Assembly’’, UN Press Release SG/SM/7136, GA/9596
(20 September 1999). See also Kofi Annan, ‘‘Two Concepts of Sovereignty’’, The Econ-
omist, 18 September 1999.
16. Remarks of Secretary-General Kofi Annan, A More Secure World: Who Needs to Do
What? (Washington, DC: Council on Foreign Relations, 16 December 2004).
17. Rolf Ekeus, ‘‘Don’t Be Fooled, They Found More Than You Think’’, Sunday Times
(London), 9 October 2003, News Review, p. 7. See also Rolf Ekeus, ‘‘Iraq’s Real Weap-
ons Threat’’, Washington Post, 29 June 2003.
18. Ekeus, ‘‘Don’t Be Fooled, They Found More Than You Think’’, p. 7.
19. ‘‘Key Findings’’, in Comprehensive Report of the Special Advisor to the DCI on Iraq’s
WMD [Duelfer Report], Vol. I, 30 September 2004, at hhttp://www.cia.gov/cia/reports/
iraq_wmd_2004/i.
20. Independent Inquiry Committee into the United Nations Oil-for-Food Programme,
Third Interim Report, 8 August 2005, available at hhttp://www.iic-offp.org/documents.
htmi.
26
Iraq and the social logic
of international security
Jean-Marc Coicaud
I don’t care what the international lawyers say; we are going to kick some ass.
(George W. Bush, 11 September 2001)1
The most conservative views of the Bush administration have shaped US

foreign policy since the beginning of 2001. Four assumptions are at the
basis of these views: national security prevails absolutely over solidarity
considerations (including the importance given to humanitarian and hu-
man rights issues); the United States has the right to define on its own
what is legitimate US foreign policy; the United States has the power to
influence international legitimacy and, subsequently, international legal-
ity; US foreign policy is, by and large, accountable to no one but the
United States itself. These assumptions amount not only to a self-centred
and asocial conception of US foreign policy, but also to a self-centred and
asocial conception of international order. As such, the search for interna-
tional security equates with the search for US security; and the principles
and institutions of collective security are only as good as they serve US
national interest.
In the past four years or so, the Bush administration has taken action
on the basis of these assumptions. The difficulties it has encountered indi-
cate, however, that these beliefs and this world view are misled. This is
what is considered in this chapter. The argument proceeds in three steps.
First, the question of how these assumptions unfold in the theory and
practice of Bush’s foreign policy is examined. Second, the argument re-
veals that, although there is some truth in Bush’s foreign policy postula-
426
IRAQ AND THE SOCIAL LOGIC OF INTERNATIONAL SECURITY 427
tions, they have been largely proven wrong in the aftermath of the war
against Iraq. Third, the chapter explores how the international order
could be improved. Here it calls for a social conception of international
security – one reconciling power and principles and making the search
for international legitimacy a key element of international order.
National security versus principles of multilateralism and

solidarity
Since 2001 the Bush administration has not hesitated to state in the
clearest manner the main beliefs that shape its foreign policy and to
have these words followed by actions. A rapid analysis of Bush’s foreign
policy in theory and practice suffices to show this.
Bush’s foreign policy and the theory of US power
The radicalism of the National Security Strategy of the United States of

America report published by the White House in September 2002 caught
the eyes of many, in the United States and abroad.2 The vision, and the
ends and means it put forward for US power, outlined a grand strategy
leading to the doctrinal sidelining of multilateralism and the philosophy
of international solidarity that it partly encompasses.
The vision and ends of Bush’s foreign policy

Overall, Bush’s grand strategy is based on and expresses a rather dark vi-
sion of the world. The world is seen as a fundamentally dangerous place.
Bush’s world vision has four main characteristics. First, it entails the
largely confrontational conception of international relations, and the
sense of mistrust associated with it. Second, it is shaped by the excep-
tional situation in which the world and the United States found them-
selves after the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001. A third character-
istic is the friend/enemy divide. This divide is used to distinguish those
countries collaborating fully in the war against terror from those reticent
to give their unrestricted backing. Fourth, there is the moral clarity with
which the Republican administration entrusts itself. Moral clarity is meant
to provide an analytically sound appraisal of the current international sit-
uation but also to ground the ends and means of US grand strategy in
values.
The primary end of Bush’s grand strategy is homeland security. In the
September 2002 document, the fixation on homeland security is at work
on four levels. First, US national security appears as the only thing that
truly matters on the international chequerboard. Second, the report ele-
428 JEAN-MARC COICAUD
vates terrorism to a phenomenon of gigantic historical significance, as

part of a struggle between good (the United States and its values) and
evil. Third, there is the stated goal of defending national security by not
allowing any other nation to challenge US military dominance. Fourth,
the impression is given that the United States, to counter its vulnerability
and insecurity, has to get as close as possible to absolute security through
the neutralization of opponents, potential or real, present or future.3
The means of Bush’s foreign policy and the doctrinal sidelining of

multilateralism and international solidarity
Within the means, the doctrinal sidelining of multilateralism and interna-
tional solidarity entailed in the vision and ends of Bush’s grand strategy
appears most clearly. The 2002 report evokes four defining tools for the
defence of US interests in the world: an ad hoc approach to international
issues; unilateralism as a rather standard procedure; the pre-emptive use
of force; and regime change. These means are a significant depreciation
of international rules, treaties and security partnerships as they had pre-
viously been conceived.4
The National Security Strategy document may express, along with its
support to alliances, an endorsement of the United Nations and multilat-
eralism.5 But the minimal attention and place accorded to them, and the
introduction of reservations about their overall usefulness and validity,
reveal how low Bush’s grand strategy ranks them in its list of tools. The
rejection of the International Criminal Court (ICC), which the 2002 re-
port makes a point of insisting on in its closing paragraphs, provides a
further indication of the circumstantial value attributed to the United
Nations and multilateralism.6
In addition, the 2002 report hardly gives any attention to the issues
of international solidarity associated with peace operations and humani-
tarian interventions. Peace operations by and large do not enter into the
security mindset of President Bush. The term ‘‘peace operation’’ is men-
tioned no more than once, in the context of Africa and en passant. The
same disregard applies to humanitarian crises. To be sure, the report re-
fers to the importance of providing humanitarian assistance in the specific
case of Afghanistan.7 It also evokes a number of ways of helping regions
and populations that have suffered from humanitarian crises, including
economic, legal and political aid.8 But it moves away from the position
put forward in the Clinton years, which envisioned the use of force to
end humanitarian crises perhaps not as a priority but at least as a possi-
bility. In the 2002 document, nothing indicates that humanitarian crises
could constitute a good reason for the use of force. Typically, when hu-
manitarian crises in Africa are mentioned, they are referred to not pri-
marily as humanitarian crises but in the context of how they constitute
national security and terrorism threats.9 It is the danger represented by

rogue states, and not their human rights violations track record, that
causes them to forfeit their national sovereign rights and be exposed to
military intervention.
The geopolitics of US national interest in practice
The Bush administration did not wait for the hijacked jetliners to hit
the Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon outside Washington
DC in September 2001 to act upon its radical conservative assumptions
about US power and its relations with the world. The presidential cam-
paign of 2000 made it clear that the Republicans intended to be as little
constrained as possible by the United Nations and multilateralism and
to give close to no attention to non-security issues. From 2001 onwards,
Bush’s foreign policy, including its response to 9/11 and the war against
Iraq, illustrated this state of affairs.
The road to unilateralism prior to 9/11

In the first eight months of his presidency, President Bush showed no
inclination to have the United States involved in peace operations or
humanitarian interventions. When fighting broke out in Macedonia in
March 2001, despite the potential for a widespread confrontation be-
tween Macedonian Slavs and the country’s sizeable ethnic Albanian mi-
nority, the Bush administration essentially vetoed direct US involvement.
Later on, in August 2001, when NATO sent troops into Macedonia to
disarm the Albanian rebels in the wake of a peace accord, the United
States took a minimal role. Only US troops already stationed in the re-
gion to support peace operations in Kosovo joined in, and their mission
was restricted to providing logistical support and intelligence to Euro-
pean troops. The Bush administration showed equal reluctance vis-à-vis
humanitarian and human rights crises. It stayed away from the emergen-
cies generated by war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Nor did
it manifest serious concerns for human rights violations in Afghanistan
prior to 9/11.
During the same period, the Bush administration paid lip-service to the
United Nations and multilateralism. Its actions showed that it refused to
be bound and constrained by them. It opposed several compacts that the
international community, and especially US allies, had pushed forward in
recent years. It abandoned the Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations
Framework Convention on Climate Change. It rejected protocols enforc-
ing a ban on germ warfare. It demanded amendments to an accord on il-
legal sales of small arms. And it vowed to withdraw from a landmark pact
limiting ballistic missile defences.
‘‘What you are going to get from this administration is ‘à la carte multi-
lateralism’ ’’, said Richard Haass, at the time the US State Department’s
director of policy planning, coining a term for the administration’s
approach in its pre-9/11 months.10 Ultimately, the value of the United
Nations and multilateralism – not seen as ends in themselves – was to be
assessed in a purely instrumental way, based on their utility for US na-
tional interest.
The war against terror and Bush’s multilateralism ‘‘de circonstance’’ in

the aftermath of 9/11
In its fight against terrorism, the White House opted for an attitude of
active engagement in the international arena, eager to get as wide sup-
port as possible from other nations. Did this mean that Bush’s foreign
policy moved away from à la carte multilateralism and endorsed the
binding modalities of multilateral cooperation? Did this mean that it re-
nounced unilateralism? The answer is ‘‘no’’.
For the Bush administration, enrolling the United Nations in its war
against terror in the immediate aftermath of the terrorist attacks was
simply a matter of convenience. It welcomed Security Council Resolution
1373 (adopted on 28 September 2001), which called upon all states to
take a variety of measures to curb terrorism. After the quick victory of
the US-led Operation Enduring Freedom over al-Qaeda and Taliban
forces in Afghanistan in October–November 2001, the Bush administra-
tion also supported the establishment in December of the International
Security Assistance Force to help the Afghan Interim Authority create a
secure environment in Kabul and its surrounding areas. In March 2002, it
buttressed the creation of the United Nations Assistance Mission in Af-
ghanistan. But, once the United Nations and multilateralism proved to
be an obstacle to the pursuit of US objectives, the Bush administration
did not take long to move away from them.
From bullying the United Nations to the war against Iraq
The argument put forward to justify going after Iraq was its assumed
possession of weapons of mass destruction (WMD) and its links with
al-Qaeda.11 The hawks holding positions of responsibility at the White
House and in the Department of Defense were determined to do what-
ever it took, with whoever would want to join the coalition, to bring
down Saddam Hussein.12 To them, going through the United Nations
was ill advised. This view was not universally shared in the Republican
administration. Secretary of State Colin Powell epitomized those who
favoured building support for the US policy towards Iraq via the United
Nations.13 He managed to convince the President. In the powerful
speech that he delivered to the UN General Assembly on 12 September

2002, George W. Bush stressed that his administration would work with
the Security Council to adopt new resolutions as the instrument for forc-
ing Saddam Hussein to disarm or, if he refused, as the basis for military
action.14 He also warned the United Nations that it risked becoming ir-
relevant if it allowed Iraq not to comply with the Security Council resolu-
tions. Bush’s tactic worked. After a few weeks of intense negotiations,
the Security Council unanimously passed a resolution with teeth. Ap-
proved on 8 November 2002, Resolution 1441 stressed the imperative
that Iraq disarm totally or face ‘‘serious consequences’’.15
Eventually, the multilateral route led to a blind alley. The divisions
within the Bush administration on the need for a UN endorsement
hampered the effectiveness of the US efforts to bring other countries on
board. While Colin Powell was ‘‘sweet-talking’’ member states to obtain
their support, at times it seemed as if the main goal of the hawkish ele-
ments of the Bush administration was to undermine his diplomatic ef-
forts. In the process, not only were they attempting to keep the United
States free of UN and multilateral entanglements. They were also making
the point that the United Nations and multilateralism were in no position
to contribute to giving legitimacy to US foreign policy. In addition, the
difficulty of convincing other member states of the existence of WMD
in Iraq, illustrated by the mixed reports of the United Nations weapons
inspectors, and the even greater challenge of demonstrating the link be-
tween Iraq and al-Qaeda proved to be significant obstacles for the United
States in the Security Council.16 The more the United States and the
United Kingdom insisted that they had a case (without supporting it
with incontestable evidence), and the more they expressed the need to
use force, the less the other permanent members (especially France) and
the non-permanent members (in particular Germany) of the Security
Council were willing to go along.
This multilateral deadlock was not enough to stop the Bush adminis-
tration. The war was launched on 20 March 2003 without Security Coun-
cil backing.17 With this, the White House showed that it was ready to by-
pass the multilateral rules of the game to pursue its objectives. True to its
credo of limiting the role of the United Nations to US needs, in the im-
mediate aftermath of the war the Bush administration also rejected the
idea of the United Nations taking the lead in the post-war reconstruction
of the country and having a say in the modalities of the transition towards
the restoration of full Iraqi sovereignty. The appointment, in May 2003,
of a Special Representative of the UN Secretary-General for Iraq, who
did not have much power, was the greatest involvement from the United
Nations allowed by the Bush administration.18
Iraq as a testing ground for Bush’s foreign policy

assumptions
The difficulties encountered by the United States because of the war in

Iraq, on the ground and at the international level, have put in question
the claimed validity of the key assumptions of Bush’s foreign policy. The
war against Iraq has shown that these assumptions contained some ele-
ments of truth. But it has proved them wrong as well. Moreover, the ef-
fects of Bush’s foreign policy, although marginally positive, have been
mainly negative for the reputation and influence of the United States
and for the stability of international order. It is proving to be a challenge
for the relatively successful election of 30 January 2005 in Iraq and the
constitutional referendum of 15 October 2005 to undo this state of affairs.
The war against Iraq and Bush’s foreign policy assumptions:

From right to wrong
To a certain extent, the aspects of Bush’s foreign policy assumptions that

state the awesome scope of US power and its capacity to act alone have
been confirmed by the facts. On the other hand, other facts have proven
wrong the assumptions betting on the US ability to achieve legitimacy,
including international legitimacy, through a self-centred foreign policy
and the unilateral use of power.
Bush’s foreign policy assumptions vindicated by the war against Iraq

The predominant position of the United States in the international distri-
bution of power has given Washington ample possibilities to define the
international agenda and act unilaterally. Following the ways in which
the United States has more or less conceived and conducted on its own
the war against terrorism in the aftermath of 9/11, the war against Iraq
certainly makes this point. The scepticism and opposition expressed by
most nations towards the Bush administration’s eagerness to act against
Saddam Hussein were not enough to stop the war. The fact that the
United States had the power to go to war on its own terms won the day.
In that sense, the foreign policy assumption stating that the United
States has the power to act internationally as it sees fit is correct.
Bush’s foreign policy ideology at odds with reality
This does not mean, however, that the United States enjoys a free hand
and has the possibility to ensure international security and redesign inter-
national order at will. This does not mean either that, because of the as-
sumed global primacy of its national interest, it is more or less account-
able to no one but itself. The obstacles faced by Bush’s foreign policy in
Iraq show that the US national interest is not the sole yardstick for as-
sessing the legitimacy of US foreign policy and international legitimacy
as a whole, let alone of the political order favoured by the United States
in the countries in which it intervenes.
To begin with, the fact that the strategic reasons put forward by the
Bush administration for going to war were fallacious has not helped.
Weapons of mass destruction are nowhere to be seen in Iraq. And in
June 2004, the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the
United States (also known as the 9-11 Commission), put in place to in-
quire into 9/11, stated that there was no proven link between al-Qaeda
and Saddam Hussein’s regime.19
The ways in which force has been used by US troops on the ground
have also been a major problem. Rules of engagement (with an inclina-
tion to shoot first and ask questions later) and torture (if not officially
decided, at least encouraged and informally approved at the highest
level20) did not boost the United States’ reputation and ability to trans-
late its power into influence and legitimacy.21
Moreover, the Bush administration has experienced first hand how dif-
ficult it is to ensure security and reconstruct Iraq more or less on its own.
It has learned the hard way that the United States needs the political,
military, financial and logistical support of as many countries as possible.
In this regard, the Bush administration has painfully learned that it is dif-
ficult to ignore the United Nations, in spite of all its shortcomings. This is
particularly the case because the European allies that it needed the most
– France and Germany – were eager to have the United Nations in-
volved. Subsequently, in occupying Iraq by and large alone, the United
States contributed less to the redesigning of international legality and le-
gitimacy than to the undermining of its own credibility and legitimacy.
As a whole, the failures of Bush’s foreign policy in Iraq illustrate the
social dimension of legitimacy. Legitimacy is not a self-declared phenom-
enon. It requires at minimum the recognition and consent of others. This
is true at the national level; it is equally true, if not more so, at the inter-
national level. Because competition, tension and confrontation tend to
shape international life, any sense of legitimacy at the international level
has to be a shared view.22 This social dimension is a requirement of inter-
national legitimacy in general; but it is also a requirement for the legiti-
macy of any given foreign policy. This requirement is of particular impor-
tance for the United States, considering its global reach and democratic
claims. Unlike the rather inconsequential international impact of a coun-
try of secondary importance, the overwhelming international power of
the United States is certain to have a tremendous effect on other nations.
If these nations are not consulted, a rift is destined to emerge and deepen,
as has happened in recent years.
Bush’s Iraq policy and its impacts on international order:

From positive to negative
Against this background, it does not come as a surprise that the mix of
right and wrong that characterizes Bush’s foreign policy assumptions had
more negative than positive impacts on international order and on the
norms and institutions underwriting it.
Looking for the positive impacts of Bush’s foreign policy

Among the positive effects of Bush’s foreign policy in Iraq, it helps to
distinguish between intentional and unintentional effects.
The main intentional positive effect of Bush’s foreign policy in Iraq is,
of course, the elimination of Saddam Hussein and his regime. No matter
how uncomfortable people may be with the invasion of Iraq, nobody ar-
gues that ousting Saddam Hussein from power was a bad thing. By and
large, nobody regrets Saddam Hussein’s removal from power.
Arguably, the decisiveness with which the Bush administration has
acted against Iraq can also be seen as a positive aspect. Over the years,
the willingness of the United Nations to leave the arms inspection issue
unresolved and the forced departure of the inspectors in 1998 un-
challenged de facto paved the way for thinking that no solution could
come from the multilateral body. Furthermore, the sanctions and the no-
fly-zone regimes imposed upon Iraq for more than a decade could not
possibly go on forever. Something had to be done. Yet, on inspections
and sanctions, the United Nations seemed to be paralysed. The White
House’s will to act showed that there was an alternative to the status
quo and to inaction on Iraq.
What are the unintentional positive effects of Bush’s foreign policy in
Iraq? Three come to mind. They concern intellectual, political and insti-
tutional benefits.
The intellectual benefit of Bush’s foreign policy vis-à-vis Iraq amounts
to the fact that its radicalism and ‘‘outside the box’’ character serve as
a wake-up call.23 Bush’s departure from a routine approach to interna-
tional relations forces us to reassess the nature and role of the norms and
institutions of international law and multilateralism and the ability to
change them. Are international law and the United Nations (the values,
rights and duties that they promote) simply organized hypocrisies, or
should they be taken seriously and therefore defended seriously? How
can international law and the United Nations contribute better to the
socialization of international life? How do international law, its institu-
tions and its norms evolve? How does the adaptation of international
law and multilateralism to reality take place? Conversely, how does the
adaptation of reality to international law and multilateralism take place?

And where (and how) should decision makers draw the line in this dual
process of adaptation?
The second benefit of Bush’s foreign policy vis-à-vis Iraq is political. Its
radicalism brings about political clarification. Other actors now tend to
go beyond the usual diplomatic ambiguities. With the war against Iraq,
European countries have for instance been forced to take a position.
They have had to state the extent to which they value their alliance with
the United States and multilateralism. Overall, political clarification is
helping to define the extent and limits of the flexibility of international
legality and legitimacy, of what is acceptable and what is not from the
point of view of member states.
The third unintentional benefit of Bush’s foreign policy vis-à-vis Iraq is
institutional. It concerns the United Nations. To be sure, the United Na-
tions is politically a rather weak organization at the moment. At the same
time, Bush’s foreign policy has contributed to fuel the debates on the role
of the United Nations in international political life. It has also contrib-
uted to making the UN stakeholders more aware of the challenges that
the United Nations and multilateralism are likely to face down the road
if they do not address their limitations.24
Bush’s Iraq policy and its negative effects on international order
The positive effects mentioned above are only a small part of Bush’s
foreign policy impact on international order.
To begin with, even the intentional positive effects of Bush’s policy
in Iraq are questionable. The ousting of Saddam Hussein will not neces-
sarily lead to a better situation in Iraq. It is still far from sure that Iraq
will become a more democratic regime. Iraq could remain unstable and
a source of tension in the region and in the world at large.
As for the unintentional positive effects, they were not pursued per se
by the Bush administration. In fact, Bush’s foreign policy tends to oppose
changes that could capitalize on these unintentional positive effects. Be-
cause the Bush administration tends to favour a self-serving, self-centred
version of international law, the United Nations and multilateralism, any
development that might go against this is unwelcome.
More to the point, the main negative effects on international order of
Bush’s Iraq policy are closely associated with the three following facts:
the war against Iraq was launched with no regard for international legal-
ity and legitimacy (there was no formal green light from the UN Security
Council); the war was launched for dubious reasons (the existence of
weapons of mass destruction in Iraq and links between al-Qaeda and
Saddam Hussein’s regime are unproven); and significant aspects of the
conduct of the war have ignored the Geneva Conventions (torture, lack
of due process). The cumulative impact of this state of affairs has weak-
ened international order at three levels at least.
The self-serving conception and discretionary use of the multilateral
mechanisms and obligations put forward by Bush’s foreign policy have
undermined the system of international legitimacy that multilateralism
seeks to provide. By promoting a double standard attitude – with a max-
imum of entitlements and a minimum of duties for the United States, and
a maximum of duties and a minimum of rights for other states – the Bush
administration has made it even less attractive for other states to accept
the constraints associated with international reciprocity and with the dy-
namics of rights and duties.25 Its unilateral approach to international af-
fairs and its self-serving multilateralism have been an invitation to more
one-sided attitudes. Ultimately, the idea and possibility of a credible re-
gime of international cooperation and of international legality and legiti-
macy are endangered.
The credibility of the United States and of its message concerning
democratic values has been weakened as well. As a result, the ability of
the US leadership in particular to rally other nations in the service of in-
ternational law and multilateralism has been altered. This is a problem
for the last resort role that the United States plays in international order
and for international order itself. It means that the United States’ foreign
policy is not seen as being the expression and tool of international legiti-
macy. Considering the pivotal role that the United States plays in the in-
ternational distribution of power, this tends to cripple the international
order with a sense of international illegitimacy.26
Finally, there is the negative effect of Bush’s policy on the Middle East.
Three elements come to the fore here. First, far from contributing to a
reduction in terrorism, Bush’s foreign policy has allowed it to spread in
the region, and has contributed to its internalization in Iraq. The policy
has also contributed to the establishment of a link between terrorism
in Iraq and regional terrorism, if not international terrorism. Secondly,
rather than bringing stability to the Middle East, Bush’s foreign policy
has increased its instability. Various actors, inside and outside Iraq, see
the possibility of the descent of Iraq into a civil war as an opportunity to
further their interests. Thirdly, the difficulties encountered by the United
States in Iraq give hope to non-democratic Arab regimes. The failure to
make Iraq stable helps their case. Authoritarian rule, once more, could
emerge as the surest way to preserve stability in the Middle East.
The impact of the January 2005 Iraqi election

The relatively successful election of 30 January 2005 has certainly been a
cause for optimism. The election day did not turn into the Armageddon
that the insurgency had promised – no major violence was unleashed on

that day. Although most of the Sunni Arabs decided not to vote, Shiites
and Kurds went to the polls in their millions. Capitalizing on this positive
development, President Bush travelled to Europe in late February 2005
for a fence-mending tour and to call for a ‘‘new start’’ in European–US
relations.
Yet the terrorist attacks did not stop after the election. And in the au-
tumn of 2005, after the constitutional referendum of 15 October, it was
still not clear how and to what extent it would be possible to bring Sunnis
into the Iraqi political process. Finding a way for the Shiite alliance, now
the majority in parliament, to coexist in the long run with the Kurds and,
more importantly, with the once-privileged Sunni minority was not a
settled issue. It therefore remained very much an open question whether
or not 2005 would mark the turning point for a better future for Iraq and
the rehabilitation of Bush’s foreign policy.
What is next for the international order?
The war against Iraq and its aftermath have shown that the United
States and the United Nations (or multilateralism) are largely mutually
dependent. It is difficult for one to do without the other. It is true that
the United States is able to act unilaterally. Doing so, however, raises
the question of the legitimacy of its foreign policy, if not the legitimacy
of the international system that it underwrites. Conversely, without the
United States playing by multilateral rules, the United Nations runs the
risk of being reduced to a second-class international citizen. In the pro-
cess, its overall relevance and legitimacy are in jeopardy.
Furthermore, a divorce between the United States and the United Na-
tions would be likely to increase global instability. Since most countries
favour a multilateral approach, resentment towards the United States
would grow. Moreover, the rest of the world (including the Europeans)
is neither willing nor able to take up the task of collective security on its
own, without the United States. The mission of preserving international
security could end up facing two opposite but equally challenging predic-
aments: too much concentration or too much diffusion of power. In the
first case, the United States alone would be more or less in charge of
global security, with the various associated dangers. These dangers could
include making US power a global scapegoat for whatever went wrong.
In the second case, left to the goodwill of local actors, the international
order might largely remain unattended to.
Completely getting rid of the tensions between the United States and
the United Nations and achieving a fully stable (and just) international
order are not on the cards at present. The tendency to a national bias in
international life and the inter-state structure that it gives to international
order lead to unavoidable tensions, if not conflicts, and limitations on
international justice. Nevertheless, there are a number of ways to reduce
these tensions and limitations. Two types of change could help: reconcil-
ing power and principles; and adjusting US foreign policy.
Reconciling power and principles
The principles and institutions (including the United Nations) of multilat-

eralism are the product of power and of a history of power. They origi-
nated in the world influence (economic, political and normative) of the
West in modern times. They also go back to the Western willingness and
ability in the twentieth century, especially under the stewardship of the
United States after World War II, to make multilateral principles and
institutions part of the international rules of the game. At the same
time, in the past 50 years, the principles and institutions of multilateral-
ism, although underwritten by key member states, have time and time
again been undermined by them. Major democratic powers have them-
selves played a leading role in both strengthening and weakening multi-
lateral culture. As a result, multilateralism has all too often been either
the captive of or disconnected from power.
In the aftermath of the Cold War, this divorce between power and
principles is more and more problematic, and less and less acceptable.
The removal of strategic competition between East and West and the
rise of democratic governance make international legitimacy increasingly
necessary. Unless ways are found to reconcile power and principles, a
sense of legitimacy at the international level will be out of reach.
At a minimum, the reconciliation of power and principles has three re-
quirements. First, it entails intertwining international rights and duties
(more than is now the case), which presupposes an awareness of the en-
titlements but also of the concomitant mutual limitations and restraints.
Another key requirement is consistency, rather than expediency, in inter-
preting and acting upon international rights and duties. Third, both these
conditions have to be met to make possible the legitimate use of power at
the international level and to favour norms and mechanisms of interna-
tional legitimacy.
This being said, reconciling power and principles also calls for certain
adjustments on the part of the one power most in a position to set the in-
ternational tone and agenda – the United States.
The need to adjust US foreign policy
Fine-tuning power and principles at the international level requires at

least three changes in US foreign policy. The first is a better balance be-
tween the US national interest and the international interest. The goal
here is not a U-turn in US foreign policy, in which the international inter-
est would become the paramount factor. This is neither possible nor de-
sirable. Nevertheless, changes have to be introduced to mitigate the self-
centred character of the United States’ power projection.
The second change is to take seriously the constraints of democratic
values on US foreign policy. The United States has to become less self-
centred and more aware of the need for a legitimate international system.
In order to achieve this, the United States has to come to terms with the
political and policy implications and with the responsibilities brought
about by being not only the sole superpower but also the sole democratic
superpower. This presupposes in particular that the demand for demo-
cratic and human rights values in the global setting is not a cloak for uni-
versalizing an undemocratic hegemony.
The third change concerns the United States and international demo-
cratic leadership. A better balance between national and international in-
terests and welcoming the foreign policy implications of being a demo-
cratic superpower do not imply that the United States should give up
its position of leadership and become a regular actor – if only because
the international system needs leadership. Without leadership, the many
points of view are likely to cancel each other out and become a paralys-
ing factor. The need for democratic leadership by the United States signi-
fies that the United States has to use its leverage while keeping in mind
three elements: international cooperation is not a one-way street; leader-
ship in the context of multilateralism builds upon the consent of other
countries, especially since contemporary international life increas-
ingly relies upon a negotiated course of action; taking multilateralism
seriously does not mean using exclusively its conciliatory and conflict
resolution powers as bargaining chips and opportunities to advance US
interests.
Ultimately, an unequal distribution of power at the international level,
with the United States at the top of the hierarchy, is not in itself a prob-
lem, as long as the dominating position of the United States is accompa-
nied by a commensurate sense of international responsibility. For, in an
(international) political culture where factoring in the rights of the other
is increasingly important, being perceived as a legitimate power and one
that supports a legitimate international system depends largely upon liv-
ing up to the following standard: the more power one has, the more du-
ties one has.27 In this perspective, the United States may very well be the
first power to be accountable globally.
Is there any hope for the future?
What is the likelihood of a reconciliation of power and principles and an

adjustment of US foreign policy? It is rather slim for two reasons: one
concerns US foreign policy; the other has to do with the reluctance of
other countries to show leadership.
Although in his second term President Bush is adopting a friendlier US
foreign policy (at least in style, with the new Secretary of State Condo-
leezza Rice), it is not a more accommodating one. There are no reasons
to believe that he has abandoned the fundamental premises of his world
view. Moreover, if Bush’s foreign policy were simply an aberration in the
history of US foreign policy, overcoming its negative impacts on interna-
tional order would be a relatively simple proposition. His departure from
the White House, at the end of his second term, would bring part of the
solution. The problem is that Bush’s foreign policy is to a large extent a
radical version of characteristics that are now deeply embedded in the
United States’ foreign policy and its relations with the rest of the world.28
As a result, the chances are that the defining features of US foreign
policy will continue to be the unequal relationship between the United
States and the United Nations, the primacy of national interest and na-
tional security issues in US foreign policy, the temptation to reduce the
international interest to a US national interest, and the United States’
self-centred conception of multilateralism. The tensions between the
United States and multilateralism will therefore continue to shape inter-
national life. And the imbalance between power and principles will
persist.
The reluctance of other member states to adopt a proactive attitude is
another reason for doubting that power will be put at the service of the
multilateral principles of inclusiveness and reciprocity of rights and du-
ties. In particular, the tendency of the permanent members of the Secu-
rity Council (other than the United States) and of UN member states in
general to take a back seat or to endorse the status quo is not encourag-
ing, and nor is the fact that they appear unwilling to invest much energy
or capital in addressing the current shortcomings of multilateralism and
the United Nations. In the end, the fact that there is much discussion
and little action is probably a sign that, for most member states (including
the critics of the current international situation), getting by is the best
worst option, and one that seems satisfactory. The limited, and dis-
appointing, results of the UN World Summit of September 2005 serve as
a case in point.
The quandary of today’s world rests on an age-old problem: the tense

relationship between the West (of which the United States is the latest
leading model) and the rest of the world. The West has oscillated be-
tween domination (with a drive to expand its power and a tendency to
predation) and humanism (promoting the universality of human rights
and the extension of international solidarity).29 Before the United States
moved into the driver’s seat, Europe was for a few centuries the engine
and incarnation of this hybrid outlook on international life, which was si-
multaneously discriminatory and embracing.
Time and time again, the West has had the opportunity to choose be-
tween the two paths – domination or humanism – without ever opting de-
cisively for one over the other. The current quasi-unipolar moment offers
once again a historic opportunity to choose the rewards of principled
international rule over the intoxicating temptation of power and the sub-
sequent trappings of paranoia. Choosing the former would be truly he-
roic. So far, nobody is volunteering to play that part.
Notes
1. Richard A. Clarke, Against All Enemies: Inside America’s War on Terror (New York:
Free Press, 2004), p. 24.
White House, September 2002).
3. On this point, see, for example, David C. Hendrickson, ‘‘America’s Dangerous Quest
for Absolute Security’’, World Policy Journal, Vol. 19, No. 3 (Autumn 2002).
4. G. John Ikenberry, ‘‘America’s Imperial Ambition’’, Foreign Affairs, Vol. 81, No. 5
(September/October 2002); and David E. Sanger, ‘‘Bush to Outline Doctrine of Striking
Foes First’’, New York Times, 20 September 2002.
5. The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, Preface.
6. Ibid., p. 30. On this issue, see also Eric P. Schwartz, ‘‘The United States and the Inter-
national Criminal Court: The Case for ‘Dexterous Multilateralism’ ’’, Chicago Journal of
International Law, Vol. 4, No. 1 (Spring 2003).
7. The National Security Strategy of the United States of America, p. 7.
8. Ibid., pp. 21–22 and p. 31.
9. Ibid., p. 10.
10. Quoted in Thom Shanker, ‘‘White House Says the US Is Not a Loner, Just Choosy’’,
New York Times, 31 July 2001. A few months earlier, Richard Haass went as far as to
call upon Americans to ‘‘re-conceive their global role from one of a traditional nation-
state to an imperial power’’ (Richard Haass, ‘‘Imperial America’’, paper presented at
the Atlanta Conference, 11 November 2000, hhttp://www.brook.edu/views/articles/
haass/2000imperial.htmi).
11. George W. Bush, The President’s State of the Union Address, 29 January 2002, hhttp://
www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2002/01/20020129-11.htmli. See also David Frum,
The Right Man. The Surprise Presidency of George W. Bush (An Inside Account) (New
York: Random House, 2003), Chapters 10 and 12.
12. On the neoconservatives and their influence on Bush’s foreign policy, see, for example,
‘‘The Shadow Men’’, The Economist, 26 April–2 May 2003, pp. 27–29.
13. On Colin Powell and his views on multilateralism, see, for example, Bill Keller, ‘‘The
World According to Powell’’, New York Times Magazine, 25 November 2001.
14. Remarks by the President in Address to the United Nations General Assembly, New York,
12 September 2002, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2002/09/20020912-1.
htmli.
15. Resolution 1441 (2002), adopted by the Security Council 8 November 2002, UN Doc.
S/RES/1441 (2002), para. 13.
16. In their various briefings of the Security Council – on 9 January 2003, reporting on
Iraq’s arms declaration; on 27 January, in their 60-day update, since its return to Iraq,
of the activities of the UN Monitoring, Verification and Inspection Commission
(UNMOVIC); and on 14 February and 7 March – Hans Blix, Executive Chairman of
UNMOVIC, and Mohamed ElBaradei, Director-General of the International Atomic
Energy Agency, indicated that, based on the information collected, the existence of
weapons of mass destruction in Iraq was not proved. See also Glen Rangwala, Natha-
niel Hurd and Alistair Millar, ‘‘A Case for Concern, Not a Case for War’’, in Micah L.
Sifry and Christopher Cerf, eds, The Iraq War Reader. History, Documents, Opinions
(New York: Touchstone, 2003), pp. 457–463.
17. On this issue, see Michael Byers, ‘‘Agreeing to Disagree: Security Council Resolution
1441 and Intentional Ambiguity’’, Global Governance, Vol. 10, No. 2 (April–June
2004).
18. UN Security Council Resolution 1483, adopted 22 May 2003, UN Doc. S/RES/1483
(2003), requested the Secretary-General to appoint a Special Representative for Iraq,
with responsibilities for coordinating humanitarian and reconstruction assistance by
UN agencies and between UN agencies and non-governmental organizations.
19. Twelfth public hearing of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon
the United States, Staff Statement No. 15, hhttp://www.9-11commission.gov/staff_
statements/staff_statement_15.pdfi.
20. See the Alberto Gonzales Memorandum to President Bush, 25 January 2002, on the ap-
plication of the Geneva Convention on prisoners of war to the conflict with al-Qaeda
and the Taliban. In the memorandum, the White House Counsel argues that the
war against terrorism ‘‘renders obsolete Geneva’s strict limitations on questioning of
enemy prisoners’’. Memo quoted on the website of the Center for American Progress,
hhttp://www.americanprogress.org/site/pp.asp?c=biJRJ80VF&b=246536i. Refer also to
‘‘Shameful Revelations Will Haunt Bush’’, The Economist, 18 June 2004; Beyond Tor-
ture: U.S. Violations of Occupation Law in Iraq, A Report by the Center for Economic
and Social Rights, June 2004, hhttp://www.cesr.org/beyondtorture.pdfi; and Seymour M.
Hersh, Chain of Command. The Road from 9/11 to Abu Ghraib (New York: Harper-
Collins, 2004), Chapter 1. See also Karen J. Greenberg and Joshua L. Drate, eds, The
Torture Papers. The Road to Abu Ghraib (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2005).
21. Refer to Beyond Torture.
22. Christian Reus-Smit, American Power and World Order (Cambridge: Polity Press,
2004), pp. 55–67.
23. This is one of the reasons behind the research project of which this book is the
result.
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change (New York: United Nations, 2004)
is part of the efforts of the United Nations to factor in the changes that have taken place
in the international landscape in the past few years and to adapt to them in order to pre-
serve, if not enhance, its relevance. The UN World Summit of September 2005, which
was meant to implement its recommendations, did not amount to much.
25. See Thomas M. Franck, ‘‘The Role of International Law and the United Nations after
Iraq’’, American Society of International Law, Washington DC, 2 April 2004.
26. Francis Fukuyama, ‘‘The Neoconservative Moment’’, The National Interest, Issue 76
(Summer 2004).
27. Jean-Marc Coicaud, Legitimacy and Politics. A Contribution to the Study of Political
Right and Political Responsibility (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002).
28. For more on this issue, see Jean-Marc Coicaud, Beyond the National Interest (Washing-
ton, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, forthcoming 2006).
29. Gerrit W. Gong, The Standard of ‘‘Civilization’’ in International Society (Oxford: Clar-
endon Press, 1984), pp. 81–93.
27
Justifying the Iraq war as a
humanitarian intervention:
The cure is worse than the disease
Nicholas J. Wheeler and Justin Morris
Introduction
What impact has the US-led intervention in Iraq had on the develop-
ing norm of humanitarian intervention in international society? Typi-
cally, there are two opposing responses to this question. On the one
hand, critics of the invocation by President George W. Bush and Prime
Ministers Tony Blair and John Howard of humanitarian claims to justify
the war against Iraq argue that this was a classic and dangerous case of
state leaders abusing humanitarian rationales for ulterior political ends.
Moreover, those who voice such concerns but are themselves supportive
of international action to end gross human rights abuses – whom we term
‘‘liberal internationalists’’ – argue that the likely effect of these appeals
will be to undercut political support for future interventions that could
legitimately be defended on humanitarian grounds. Set against this,
supporters of the Iraq intervention – whom we call the ‘‘new liberal
interventionists’’ – argue that it is defensible on moral grounds, and that
international law should be changed to permit armed intervention to re-
move tyrannical regimes such as that of Saddam Hussein. Consequently,
far from discrediting the emerging norm of humanitarian intervention,
this group views the Iraq intervention as setting an important precedent
for future actions of this kind.
The premise guiding this chapter is that neither of the above positions
should be accepted on grounds of either theory or policy. The first part of
444
THE IRAQ WAR AS A HUMANITARIAN INTERVENTION 445
the chapter briefly maps out the arguments supporting a new norm of hu-
manitarian intervention in the 1990s. We then turn to an examination of
the contention that Iraq is a clear-cut case of states misusing moral argu-
ments for political ends. Although we refute the claim of the new liberal
interventionists that the intervention in Iraq has produced – or is produc-
ing – a positive humanitarian outcome, equally we reject the argument
that, in acting as they did, Bush and Blair were abusing the norm of hu-
manitarian intervention. We reject the argument on two grounds. First, it
fails to capture the belief of Bush and Blair – and their closest advisers –
that regime change in Iraq was genuinely justifiable on moral grounds.
The problem is not that Bush and Blair were manipulating humanitarian
claims for selfish purposes, but rather that their conception of humani-
tarianism, most especially in the case of Bush, is coterminous with the
spread of liberal values. Secondly, the argument that the United King-
dom and the United States abused humanitarian claims fails to acknowl-
edge that the dominant justification – and certainly the only formal legal
argument pressed into service to justify the war – related to Iraq’s non-
compliance with existing UN Security Council resolutions regarding pos-
session of weapons of mass destruction.
The final part of the chapter investigates the argument, championed by
Blair, that the UN Security Council should intervene militarily in cases
where governments abuse human rights on a widespread and regular ba-
sis. Whereas currently the emerging normative consensus at the United
Nations supports military intervention for humanitarian protection only
in cases of genocide and/or mass killing, the proposition advanced by
the new liberal interventionists is that the threshold justifying armed
action should be lowered to encompass regimes that massively abuse hu-
man rights. However, such a move is not going to find political support at
the United Nations. The majority of states remain stubbornly committed
to the norm of non-intervention except in the most egregious of cases.
Moreover, what many governments perceive as the misuse of humanitar-
ian arguments over Iraq has served only to reinforce their concerns about
the dangers of legitimizing a new rule of humanitarian intervention in
international society. This criticism misconstrues the motives behind
the Iraq intervention; nevertheless, the very perception of abuse serves
to undermine the further consolidation of a norm of humanitarian inter-
vention. This, however, is not the primary reason that the new liberal in-
terventionist agenda should be opposed. Rather, in seeking to legitimize
action outside the UN framework that significantly limits sovereign rights,
it risks eroding what progress has been made in moving international
society towards a limited doctrine of UN-authorized humanitarian
intervention.
446 NICHOLAS J. WHEELER AND JUSTIN MORRIS
A developing norm of military intervention for

humanitarian protection?
To understand how attitudes to the idea of military intervention for hu-

manitarian protection changed in the 1990s, it is necessary to look back
to the Cold War era when the society of states operated a rigid interpre-
tation of the non-intervention principle. It is true that after the end of
World War II, and in the shadow of the Nazi death camps, it was agreed
in a series of UN human rights instruments that states should uphold ba-
sic humanitarian values. The 1948 non-binding Universal Declaration of
Human Rights was followed in 1950 by the adoption of the Convention
on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, which re-
quired signatories to punish those who committed the crime of genocide
on their territory. But what is crucial to note about the development of
global humanitarian norms is that it was clearly understood that they did
not provide a basis for states to use force to uphold these standards in the
event that particular governments failed to live up to them. The long-
standing idea of humanitarian intervention found no support in such le-
gal instruments, and Charter provisions such as Article 2(4), limiting
states’ rights to use force, and Article 2(7), banning UN organs from in-
terfering in matters that belonged to the ‘‘domestic jurisdiction of sover-
eign states’’, served significantly to constrain the means by which human-
itarian objectives could legitimately be pursued.
If humanitarian ends were to be achieved through military means then,
within the United Nations’ highly centralized system, it would require the
Security Council to utilize the powers at its disposal. But during the years
of the Cold War the Council interpreted these powers very narrowly and
invariably in a way that was inimical to the protection of basic human
rights. A graphic illustration of this proclivity was the Council’s response
to Pakistan’s slaughter of tens of thousands of Bengalis in East Pakistan
in the period between March and December 1971. The Council ex-
pressed regret at the humanitarian emergency caused by the mass killing,
but there was an unusual consensus among its 15 members that Article
2(7) of the Charter prevented the Council from acting to stop the car-
nage. Cold War rivalries militated against any such intervention, with
Pakistan and India allied respectively to the US and Soviet blocs. Even
without this geopolitical dynamic, Council members strongly held the
belief that mass killing inside Pakistan fell firmly within its sovereign
jurisdiction.1
Today, it is virtually inconceivable that the Security Council would
oppose armed intervention to end genocide, mass killing and large-scale
ethnic cleansing on the grounds that this violated a state’s sovereign
rights. This profound change in attitudes was registered at the 2005 UN
World Summit when the General Assembly accepted a declaration that

stated that ‘‘collective action’’ could be taken using ‘‘Chapter VII, on a
case-by-case basis and in cooperation with relevant regional organisa-
tions . . . should peaceful means be inadequate and national authorities
are manifestly failing to protect populations from genocide, war crimes,
ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity’’.2 The fundamental change
in normative practice that occurred during the 1990s concerned the
Council’s willingness to define humanitarian emergencies inside a state’s
borders as a threat to ‘‘international peace and security’’, thereby legiti-
mating UN enforcement action under Chapter VII of the Charter.3 But
there are three caveats that have to be borne in mind when claiming, as
UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan did, that there is a ‘‘developing inter-
national norm’’4 forcibly to protect endangered populations.
The first is that governments remain extremely sensitive about tres-
passing on the sovereignty of others. Member states are cognizant that
the United Nations was created to prevent wars, not to become an instru-
ment for their propagation. Consequently, in the absence of target state
consent, the Council is going to authorize armed action to protect fellow
humans only in exceptional circumstances and where it is believed that
the costs of military action are massively outweighed by the moral conse-
quences of inaction. The bar, then, for UN-authorized humanitarian in-
tervention is very high, and most states will support such action only in
cases of genocide and mass killing and where it does not impinge upon
important interests.
The second point to realize about the developing norm is that the
consensus over armed intervention does not extend to unilateral action
(defined as an intervention not authorized by the Security Council). It is
evident from the position taken by the vast majority of states in debates
in the General Assembly that there is no support for a legal right of uni-
lateral humanitarian intervention, with many Southern states worried
that such a right would become a weapon that the strong would use
against the weak. Notably, however, where the Council has been called
upon to judge cases of intervention in which it did not give prior author-
ization (such as the intervention by the Economic Community of West
African States in Liberia in 1992 and, much more controversially,
NATO’s intervention in Kosovo in 1999), it has shown a new-found ca-
pacity to interpret flexibly the Charter’s firm legal prohibition on the use
of force. In so doing it has avoided a situation in which a consistent appli-
cation of the law offends against moral values that are integral to the
Charter itself.5
Thirdly, the much-vaunted claim that there is a ‘‘developing interna-
tional norm’’ to protect civilians appears very hollow when viewed from
the perspective of the millions who have perished in the past 10 years
from genocide and war in Rwanda, Sudan and the Democratic Republic
of the Congo (DRC). In the case of NATO’s intervention in Kosovo, the
major Western states were prepared to employ force for a complex mix
of humanitarian and security reasons. But the emergent norm of civilian
protection was insufficient to motivate these same governments to put
their troops in harm’s way to save Rwandans from genocide in 1994.
The problem is that the norm enables new possibilities of intervention,
but it does not determine that such actions will take place. The moral lim-
itations of the project of humanitarian intervention in the 1990s can be
seen in the fact that in no case have states intervened when there were
no vital interests at stake and/or where there were perceived to be high
risks to the lives of intervening forces. This produces a pattern of inter-
vention that is highly selective, frequently driven by considerations of na-
tional self-interest rather than humanitarian need.6 It also ensures that,
when intervention does take place, it is widely viewed as morally hypo-
critical, a rhetorical instrument that rationalizes the projection of force
by the powerful. Iraq is only the latest intervention where this long-
standing critique can be strongly heard.
The use and abuse of humanitarian claims over Iraq

Defending the removal of Saddam Hussein on humanitarian grounds un-
doubtedly became more pronounced following the failure to find weap-
ons of mass destruction (WMD). But it would be wrong to think that
such claims were not invoked by the United States, the United Kingdom
and Australia (the three states that contributed combat forces to Opera-
tion Iraqi Freedom) in the months preceding the military action. Speak-
ing on 28 January 2003 in his State of the Union Address, Bush ad-
dressed the Iraqi people in the following terms: ‘‘Your enemy is not
surrounding your country – your enemy is ruling your country . . . And
the day he and his regime are removed from power will be the day of
your liberation.’’7 And, three days before initiating military hostilities,
the President made the following promise to Iraqis: ‘‘we will tear down
the apparatus of terror and we will help you to build a new Iraq that is
prosperous and free. In a free Iraq, there will be no more wars of aggres-
sion against your neighbours, no more poison factories, no more execu-
tions of dissidents, no more torture chambers and rape rooms.’’8
An appeal to humanitarian rationales was also evident in the justifica-
tions proffered by the Australian and British governments. Prime Minis-
ter John Howard vigorously defended the morality of Australian partici-
pation in military action, arguing that the humanitarian costs of war had
to be weighed against the ‘‘very powerful case to the effect that the re-
moval of Saddam Hussein’s regime would produce a better life and less
suffering for the people of Iraq’’.9 This sentiment was also strongly held
by Blair and his Foreign Secretary, Jack Straw. The Foreign and Com-
monwealth Office released a report in November 2002 documenting the
gross and systematic abuses of human rights that had taken place in Iraq
since Saddam came to power. Moreover, speaking at the Labour Party’s
local government, women’s and youth conferences in Glasgow on 15 Feb-
ruary 2003, the same day that 1 million people were marching against war
on the streets of London, Blair championed the moral argument for war.
He challenged delegates to remember that, ‘‘if the result of peace is Sad-
dam staying in power . . . then I tell you there are consequences paid in
blood for that decision too. But these victims will never be seen. They
will never feature on our TV screens or inspire millions to take to the
streets. But they will exist nonetheless. Ridding the world of Saddam
would be an act of humanity. It is leaving him there that is in truth
inhumane.’’10
Critics of the war argue that these moral justifications are hypocritical
and self-serving. They cite UK and US inaction in the face of Saddam
Hussein’s terrible oppression of the Kurds in the late 1980s, the establish-
ment of a sanctions regime that inflicted terrible suffering on the civilian
population, and revelations regarding the brutal treatment of Iraqi de-
tainees in support of this case. Each of these criticisms is, of course, open
to a counter-argument: the West’s support for the Iraqi leader and conse-
quent failure to protect the Kurds appear more reasonable when viewed
in the context of the Cold War and the perceived threat from Iranian fun-
damentalism; the US and UK view of sanctions was driven by the expec-
tation that they would produce regime change in Baghdad by triggering
an internal uprising and by concerns that lifting the sanctions would en-
able Saddam to procure components for his nascent WMD programmes;
and the US and UK culpability for the mistreatment of detainees de-
pends upon the extent to which political leaders were complicit in the ac-
tions of subordinates. Whatever the balance of these arguments, what is
important is the perception of many governments and national publics
that, to the extent that humanitarian arguments were employed, the
United Kingdom and the United States were deliberately using them to
cloak the pursuit of baser national interests.
Viewed in this light, the real motivations that led Washington and Lon-
don to deploy troops to Iraq are seen to be geopolitical and strategic.
This is not the place to delve into these factors in great detail, but it is
clear that for the United States a mix of the following considerations sup-
ported a policy of forcible regime change in Baghdad: long-term anxiety
about how to manage a nuclear-armed Saddam; the associated fear that
Iraqi WMD might find their way – deliberately or inadvertently – into
the hands of terrorist groups such as al-Qaeda; the conviction that there
was a war-winning strategy in Iraq that would serve as a demonstration
effect to other states about the consequences of challenging Washington;
the hope that Iraq could serve as a new beacon of democracy in the
Middle East; the desire to remove a long-term foe of Israel; and the
desire to secure long-term access to Iraq’s major oil supplies. Not all of
these rationales played in the UK context but, critically, an additional
one did, namely Blair’s belief that public and unstinting loyalty to the
United States would be reciprocated by greater UK influence over the
course of US policy. This article of faith in the so-called ‘‘special relation-
ship’’ has been a hardy perennial in British foreign policy since 1945, and
it was never more visible than over Iraq.
Clearly, without at least some of the above motivations, it is inconceiv-
able that Bush and Blair would have acted to overthrow Saddam Hus-
sein, but the fact that the primary – though not exclusive – motivations
were non-humanitarian does not necessarily negate a positive humanitar-
ian outcome. Motives matter only if they contradict the stated humanitar-
ian justification for an action.11 The question is whether, from a human
rights perspective, it is reasonable to support a military intervention that
has as one of its declared ends the termination of human rights abuses,
when this is not one of the motives behind the action or at best is a sec-
ondary consideration. Those new liberal interventionists who support the
Iraq war but consider that humanitarian motives were not paramount
point to the beneficial consequences of the action. Thus, Michael Igna-
tieff argues that, ‘‘if the consequence of intervention is a rights-respecting
Iraq in a decade or so, who cares whether the intentions that led to
it were mixed at best?’’12 Similarly, William Shawcross, in entering the
political minefield over Blair’s WMD justification for war, argues that
‘‘what really matters . . . is to build upon the first opportunity Iraqis have
ever had to create a decent society’’.13
Because intervention will rarely be motivated primarily – let alone
singularly – by humanitarian purposes, the privileging of humanitarian
outcomes over motivations is a good reply to those critics who oppose es-
tablishing a doctrine of humanitarian intervention. However, such an ar-
gument rests on two key premises, both of which are deeply problematic
in the case of Iraq. The first is the accuracy of the claim, frequently reit-
erated by Bush and Blair, that Iraq is a much better place as a result
of the intervention. If Iraq evolves in the next few years into a tolerant
rights-respecting society, then this will provide support to those who seek
to represent the Iraq war as a justifiable humanitarian intervention. How-
ever, any such assessment would have to weigh on the debit side of the
equation the thousands of Iraqi civilians killed during the war, the civil-
ians who have been killed, injured or abused by both the resistance and
coalition forces during the subsequent military occupation,14 and the

damage done to the civilian infrastructure, which is seriously affecting
the health and well-being of many Iraqis. The final conclusions that one
should draw from this complex balancing act are yet to be determined.
The acceptance of a new Iraqi constitution in late October 2005 bodes
well, although in both its build-up and final outcome the referendum
says as much about the dangerous cleavages in Iraqi society as it does
about national solidarity. And, against this positive outcome, insurgent
activity continues and casualties rise. Despite increasing political opposi-
tion and an electorate that grows ever more critical, it is probable that
the Bush administration has too much political capital invested in Iraq
for it to withdraw from the melee. A post-Bush United States may, how-
ever, prove far less resolute. In the lap of such political vacillations lie the
fortunes of post-conflict Iraq.
The argument’s second premise concerns the sustainability of the as-
sumption that there is no link between motivations and outcomes. The
contention that outcomes should be privileged over motives is rejected
by those who maintain that there is a direct link between the strength of
the altruistic impulse to rescue and the effectiveness of the subsequent
military operation in meeting this need. ‘‘A dominant humanitarian mo-
tive is important’’, according to Kenneth Roth, executive director of Hu-
man Rights Watch, ‘‘because it affects numerous decisions made in the
course of an intervention and its aftermath that can determine its success
in saving people from harm.’’15 He argues that, if the humanitarian
impulse had been a primary consideration in the case of Iraq, the Bush
administration would have made better plans, especially in terms of in-
creased troop numbers. Senior US generals requested a much larger
force to cope with what they expected to be a chaotic and violent post-
war security situation, but this request was turned down by Secretary of
Defense Donald H. Rumsfeld. The civilian leaders in the Pentagon were
strongly – if ill-advisedly – influenced by those Iraqi exiles who main-
tained that US forces would be greeted as liberators, and they were
openly dismissive of dissenting views such as those expressed by the State
Department and some in the military.16
Many Iraqi civilians have been killed since the end of the war as a
consequence of intense fighting between US forces and local militias.
Roth considers that the regular troops deployed in Iraq were – and are –
unsuited to the task of local policing, and that the Pentagon’s failure to
train large numbers of police for such operations is symptomatic of its
general lack of commitment to humanitarian protection as a principle
guiding US force planning and strategy. He also castigates the UK and
US forces for employing cluster munitions in urban areas, arguing that
this led to the death or injury of over 1,000 civilians. ‘‘Such disregard for
civilian life’’, he laments, ‘‘is incompatible with a genuinely humanitarian

intervention.’’17 This reliance on cluster bombs by UK and US forces re-
duces the risks facing soldiers compared with the alternative military
strategy of moving in closer to engage enemy forces with close air sup-
port. However, although it is entirely reasonable that the armed forces
should seek to minimize risks, the problem arises, as in Iraq, when this
has the direct effect of increasing the exposure of civilians to harm. The
difficulty here, and it is one that is overlooked by Roth, is how interven-
ing states should balance the responsibilities they have to their armed
forces against the duties they owe foreigners.18 If the requirement for a
legitimate humanitarian intervention is that soldiers should incur high
levels of risk to protect non-nationals, this will have the effect of further
inhibiting states from acting in humanitarian emergencies.
Critics would argue that the discrepancy between US and UK humani-
tarian justifications and the military conduct of the intervention supports
the argument that Iraq was a case of abuse. Examining how far humani-
tarian justifications were in conformity with subsequent military actions
is an important way of testing for the presence of humanitarian moti-
vations, but it is not definitive, and Iraq demonstrates the limits of this
approach. It does not automatically follow from the obvious shortcom-
ings of Operation Iraqi Freedom in protecting civilians that the critics
are right to name Iraq as a clear-cut case of abuse. Those like Roth are
right to highlight the failure of the US-led coalition to calibrate military
means to declared humanitarian ends, and those responsible should be
held morally accountable for their failure to factor civilian protection
seriously into post-war military planning; to believe that a force of fewer
than 100,000 troops could provide for law and order in a post-Saddam
Iraq was wishful thinking of the most irresponsible kind and it has pro-
duced tragic results. It does not, however, necessarily follow from such
culpability that US and especially UK state leaders were disingenuous in
advancing human rights as a rationale for their recourse to force.
Iraq would constitute a case of abuse only if the United States and the
United Kingdom deliberately manipulated humanitarian claims for ulter-
ior purposes. But those who make such a claim ignore the fact that both
Bush and, especially, Blair strongly believed in the moral case for re-
moving Saddam, although the philosophy guiding their respective world
views is significantly different. Bush had made clear on many occasions
that he believed in the ‘‘non-negotiable’’ values of freedom, human dig-
nity and justice. His neoconservative philosophy is predicated on the be-
lief that US values are universally valid, and that the United States’ polit-
ical and economic system is ‘‘a model for the world’’ – as two of the high
priests of the neoconservative movement put it.19 Moreover, Bush and
his neoconservative allies believe that the mission of US power is actively

to defend and export these principles. Given this guiding moral impulse,
regime change in Iraq was seen by the Bush administration as being jus-
tifiable because Saddam was a fundamental obstacle to the realization of
those universal moral values shared by both the United States and the
Iraqi people.
There are, of course, countless examples in history (the Crusades, the
Spanish/Portuguese conquest of the Americas, etc.) where interveners
have appealed to universal values when these were merely a reflection
of particular values and interests. It is recognition of these dangers that
leads opponents of humanitarian intervention to worry that the doctrine
merely serves to legitimate the exercise of US preponderance. Moreover,
while acknowledging the Bush administration’s belief that the notions of
human dignity and freedom are synonymous with the extension of US
liberal capitalism, it remains important to recognize how selective it has
been in its approach to meeting human need. The neoconservatives sup-
port using US military power only where there are clear strategic threats
to US interests and important political and economic benefits to be
gained from intervention. It is this reasoning that explains why Iraq, and
not the humanitarian emergencies in Liberia or the DRC, became the
object of US military intervention.
In contrast to Bush and the neoconservatives, Blair stands as a leading
advocate of the new liberal interventionist agenda. Speaking in October
2001 at the Labour Party Conference, the Prime Minister asserted that
‘‘the starving, the wretched, the dispossessed, the ignorant, those living
in want and squalor from the deserts of Northern Africa to the slums of
Gaza, to the mountain ranges of Afghanistan: they too are our cause’’. In
the same speech, he stated his firm conviction that, were another Rwanda
to happen, the world would have a compelling ‘‘moral duty’’ to intervene
to stop it.20 In helping to topple Saddam there is ample evidence that
Blair saw himself as acting pursuant to this world view. Although he cer-
tainly believed that Iraq posed a long-term threat to regional and global
security that could be effectively addressed only by Saddam’s removal
from power, these considerations served to reinforce his powerful hu-
manitarian instincts.21 What is certainly the case is that Blair would
have been uncomfortable with any ending of the Iraq crisis that left Sad-
dam in power.22 Peter Stothard, who spent 30 days with the Prime Min-
ister in March 2003, quotes Blair as saying: ‘‘What amazes me is how
many people are happy for Saddam to stay. They ask why we don’t get
rid of Mugabe, why not the Burmese lot. Yes, let’s get rid of them all. I
don’t because I can’t, but when you can, you should.’’23
Ironically, whereas some critics of the war have sought to cast doubt on
Blair’s humanitarian credentials, others have lambasted him for failing to

emphasize humanitarian concerns more strongly and for not resting his
case for war on such grounds alone. They maintain that he would have
secured greater public support had he employed this rationale rather
than relying on Iraq’s possession of weapons of mass destruction, which
lacked credibility among many voters.24 Aside from smacking of the kind
of cynical manipulation of public opinion for which Blair is so often cas-
tigated, this argument is open to more substantive objections. First, it
fails to appreciate that for Blair there was no incompatibility between
the WMD and the humanitarian arguments; he viewed regime change as
the only means of effectively addressing both concerns. Secondly, even if
humanitarian motives were the primary driver, he recognized there was
no prospect of building an international coalition at the United Nations
to support regime change on humanitarian grounds alone. Finally, the
advice being tendered to the Prime Minister by his legal advisers was
that there was no legal basis for removing a regime on account of its
brutal character. Reliance on this justification might have triggered
more embarrassing resignations among the government’s legal advis-
ers,25 including perhaps the Attorney General himself, Lord Goldsmith,
whose private legal opinion to Blair provided no support for the view that
Iraq’s regime could be overthrown on humanitarian grounds.26 Whatever
Blair’s own convictions about the humanitarian case for war, he stated
publicly that this is ‘‘not the reason we act. That must be according to
the United Nations mandate on Weapons of Mass Destruction.’’27 The
fact that the United Kingdom’s legal case for going to war against Iraq
rested firmly on the contention that this action was in conformity with ex-
isting Security Council resolutions (the 678–687–1441 argument) further
undermines the contention that the United Kingdom was abusing human-
itarian justifications. The abuse argument relies on the assumption that a
humanitarian rationale is the principal reason adduced in defence of an
intervention, and this is clearly not the case with Iraq. If anything, it
may well be that such arguments were, at least initially, deliberately
down-played.
The claim that Blair was strongly motivated by humanitarian reasons
over Iraq but felt constrained by international political exigencies and
the existing legal framework from pressing this argument too strongly is
strongly supported by the attempts he has made since the war both to jus-
tify Iraq as a humanitarian intervention and to change international law
so that armed intervention would be permissible against tyrants such as
Saddam. It is to these efforts, their reception in the wider international
community and the implications for the developing norm of humanitarian
intervention that we now turn.
Justifying Iraq as a legitimate humanitarian intervention
In a landmark speech on 5 March 2004 in his home constituency of

Sedgefield, Tony Blair declared that ‘‘we surely have a responsibility to
act when a nation’s people are subjected to a regime such as Sad-
dam’s’’.28 He admitted that there was no existing legal basis for interven-
tion of this kind, but maintained that there should be. As we argued at
the beginning of the chapter, the emerging normative consensus supports
Security Council authorized intervention in cases of genocide and mass
killings, but there is no enthusiasm for military action to defend human
rights below this level. Blair’s contention that the war against Iraq met
the threshold for a justifiable humanitarian intervention was partly post
hoc rationalization, but it also reflected the worry that establishing a
high threshold for intervention allows regimes to abuse human rights se-
cure in the knowledge that this would not trigger outside intervention. A
chilling illustration of this reasoning was the Serb general who reportedly
said, in relation to ethnic cleansing in Kosovo, ‘‘a village a day keeps
NATO away’’. The problem is that addressing this concern by lowering
the threshold brings in its wake a whole new set of problems that are
likely to make the cure worse than the disease.
There are two compelling reasons to maintain a high threshold for jus-
tifying the use of force in humanitarian emergencies. The first is that re-
sort to armed action as a means of halting slaughter must always be a last
resort and should be undertaken only in the full knowledge that using
force inevitably imposes harm on the civilian population the intervention
is aimed at rescuing. Such interventions should be launched only when
policy makers are confident that the moral costs of inaction far outweigh
the moral consequences of using force, and this inevitably means restrict-
ing military intervention to extreme cases of humanitarian emergency.
This position was one of the key planks in Human Rights Watch’s rejec-
tion of the argument that the war in Iraq was justifiable on humanitarian
grounds. In his 2004 article, executive director Roth argued that humani-
tarian intervention without the consent of the target state could be justi-
fied only ‘‘in the face of on-going or imminent genocide, or comparable
mass slaughter or loss of life . . . Other forms of tyranny are deplorable
. . . but they do not in our view rise to the level that would justify the ex-
traordinary response of military force.’’29
The second objection to lowering the threshold is that this opens the
door to a range of interventions that could claim, with varying degrees
of plausibility, to be humanitarian. Gareth Evans, co-chair of the Interna-
tional Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS), en-
capsulated the reasoning that led ICISS to establish deliberately narrow
threshold principles in its report The Responsibility to Protect. ‘‘The argu-

ment’’, Evans recalled, ‘‘was that unless the bar is set very high and tight,
excluding less than catastrophic forms of human rights abuse, prima facie
cases for the use of military force could be made across half the world.’’
Awful though the chronic human rights abuses inside Iraq were, they
could not justify recourse to force because Saddam’s ‘‘behaviour was not
much worse than a score or two of others’’.30
Both Roth’s consequentialist argument and Evans’ concerns regarding
the opening of the proverbial flood-gates require the plotting of a difficult
course between navigational points about which there is little inter-
national consensus. Although each stands as a major opponent of inter-
vention in March 2003, both have argued that military action would
have been legitimate following the 1988 ‘‘genocide’’ against the Kurds
and also in the immediate aftermath of the 1991 Gulf war when Saddam’s
forces brutally suppressed uprisings by Kurds in the north and by Shiites
in the south of the country.31 However unpalatable the implication, the
question of when to intervene must always be one of degree. Hence
Roth, a tireless campaigner against the barbarous Saddam regime, while
recognizing that Saddam killed perhaps as many as a quarter of a million
Iraqis over his 25-year rule, concluded that there was no evidence of
mass killing – actual or imminent – that justified military intervention in
March 2003.32 Such difficulties go far in explaining the tentative manner
in which the international community came to endorse the concept of
a ‘‘responsibility to protect’’ at the 2005 World Summit.33 General As-
sembly acceptance came at a price, namely the abandonment of cri-
teria that could be employed to address the issue of degree, which for
many is at the heart of the question about when the use of force is
legitimate.34
A further factor in the garnering of support for the ‘‘responsibility to
protect’’ was the omission of references to how action could be legiti-
mized in the absence of Security Council authorization. In the eyes of
many, the dangers of issuing a licence for intervention to end gross hu-
man rights abuses would be significantly lessened if Security Council au-
thorization were accepted as a sine qua non of a legitimate intervention.
This was Blair’s aspiration in raising the issue in his Sedgefield speech,
and it is clear that the United Kingdom has a strong interest in ensuring
that interventions secure Council approval, given its veto power. But
there is no likelihood of the Council agreeing to sanction force to end hu-
man rights violations that fall below the level of genocide, mass murder
and large-scale ethnic cleaning. China and Russia could be relied upon
to lead opposition to such a step, and they would draw considerable sup-
port from the non-aligned grouping at the United Nations. These states
have long worried that the major Western powers, and especially the
United States, might employ human rights justifications as a pretext to le-
gitimate military intervention. These suspicions are seen to have been
confirmed by the action in Iraq and, although the General Assembly
signed up to a declaration on the ‘‘Responsibility to Protect’’ in Septem-
ber 2005, it remains to be seen to what extent Council members will be
prepared to give teeth to this in future cases of egregious human suffer-
ing. In this regard, any future expansion of the Council designed to en-
sure greater Southern representation is likely to prove deleterious from
a new liberal interventionist standpoint. Exactly how this will factor into
the further development of the norm of humanitarian intervention re-
mains a matter of conjecture, but it is unlikely that increasing representa-
tion from Africa, Asia and Latin America will result in a Council more
inclined to support humanitarian intervention.
The new liberal interventionists want to use Iraq to advance the case
for military intervention to remove tyrannical regimes. However, liberal
internationalists who are committed to establishing a new global consen-
sus supporting UN-authorized humanitarian intervention fear that the
Iraq war undermines the limited progress made to date. For example,
Evans argues that, because Iraq is interpreted in wider international soci-
ety as a case of abuse, this would make it much more difficult to persuade
other governments to support future interventions justified in humanitar-
ian terms. In May 2004 he argued that, as a consequence of the Iraq war,
an ‘‘emerging international norm of real potential utility was once again
struggling for acceptance’’.35 Reflecting the same anxiety, Roth cau-
tioned that ‘‘the effort to justify it [the Iraq war] even in part in humani-
tarian terms risk[s] [breeding] cynicism about the use of military force for
humanitarian purposes [which] could be devastating for people in need
of future rescue’’.36
The dismal failure of the international community to respond effec-
tively to the humanitarian catastrophe in Darfur in western Sudan in
2004 appeared to confirm Roth’s worst fears: it is estimated that at least
100,000 Sudanese civilians have been killed by government-sponsored
militias in the past two years, and, as of December 2005, 2 million people
were internally displaced in Darfur and at risk from malnutrition and dis-
ease.37 US Secretary of State Colin Powell took the momentous step on 9
September 2004 of declaring the catastrophe in Darfur to be a case of
genocide,38 but, if he expected this act of naming to galvanize the inter-
national community to respond decisively to the crisis, his hopes were to
be dashed. The international community remained stubbornly passive in
the face of what was at the time the world’s worst humanitarian crisis,
and it seemed that the war in Iraq had done little to help those who
wished to see a robust response to the unfolding humanitarian emer-

gency. Alex Bellamy points out that some members of the Security Coun-
cil, anxious that Sudan should not become the next target for US inter-
vention, reaffirmed in Council deliberations the paramount importance
of the non-intervention principle.39 Such language is worryingly reminis-
cent of the Council debates of the past, but its import should be neither
read out of context nor exaggerated.
That in the face of such atrocities no proposal for large-scale military
intervention in Darfur was tabled in the Council may be taken as evi-
dence that post-Iraq states are highly reluctant to sanction intervention,
particularly where the target state is Islamic. Iraq is also significant in
that the ongoing commitment there of the United States and the United
Kingdom diminishes their capacity – and perhaps willingness – to become
embroiled in additional military ventures. Moreover, in the eyes of many
states, their actions over Iraq make them less than palatable agents of the
United Nations or norm carriers for humanitarianism.
However, set against these arguments, there exist equally plausible
alternative interpretations of the inertia. Principally it should be re-
cognized that the norm that emerged during the 1990s – codified in the
2005 World Summit Outcome document – is permissive rather than
obligatory and, even without the repercussions of Iraq, it is doubtful that
there would have been much appetite for military intervention in Darfur
given the geographical, logistical and military challenges that such an
operation would entail. Such practical questions are an integral part of
the ethical reasoning that must inform any decision to intervene and, as
noted already, such issues have served in many cases to prevent action
being taken. It should also be recognized that, whereas those within the
Council inclined to oppose intervention may be emboldened by the post-
Iraq discrediting of the United States and the United Kingdom
in invoking sovereignty as a shield against intervention, states such as
China are doing no more than voicing concerns that pre-date the con-
flict but that fell silent during a brief period of acquiescence in the
1990s.
In the aftermath of the Iraq conflict, cases such as Darfur serve only to
test the continuing validity of the embryonic norm of Council-authorized
intervention in which a ‘‘coalition of the willing’’ seeks Security Council
authorization to use force to halt a humanitarian crisis. If, pushed to a
vote, such a request fails to secure majority support in the Council on
the grounds that such action violates the principle of state sovereignty,
then this would represent a retreat from the promise made in September
2005 to set definite limits to the non-intervention rule – turning back the
clock to the dark days of the Cold War when sovereign rights always
trumped human rights.
Conclusion
The war against Iraq has produced a major fissure in the liberal inter-
national consensus forged in the 1990s concerning the justifiability of mil-
itary intervention for humanitarian protection. This was predicated on
the assumption that sovereign rights should be limited in cases of geno-
cide and/or mass killings when a government was unable or unwilling to
provide protection to its citizens.40 It is paradoxical that the General As-
sembly signed up to this principle in September 2005 because the interna-
tional consensus underpinning this position has been put under great
strain as a consequence of attempts by the new liberal interventionists
to justify the Iraq war as a humanitarian intervention. This move is con-
demned across the political spectrum as a convenient rationalization, and
those within the liberal camp committed to working through the United
Nations worry that defending the Iraq war as a humanitarian interven-
tion sets back the cause of entrenching the norm of the responsibility to
protect.
This chapter has argued that the charge of abuse oversimplifies the
complex set of motivations that led Bush and Blair to overthrow Saddam
Hussein, but endorses the liberal internationalist position that the Iraq
war fails as a justifiable humanitarian intervention. However, in arguing
that Iraq was not a simple case of abuse, it is necessary to recognize that
humanitarian motives were not the primary driver behind the US and
UK intervention. The Iraq war is a significant factor in the wider debate
about the legitimacy of humanitarian intervention, not because it was pri-
marily justified as such an act but because of the nature and magnitude of
the human suffering that resulted from the war. Yet it does not follow
that, because the Bush administration accorded a low priority to civilian
protection in post-war military planning, the Iraq war is a clear-cut case
of abuse. The administration should be held to account for its over-
reliance on Iraqi exiles who had their own agenda; for thinking that the
Iraqis would greet US forces with open arms; and for ignoring the advice
of senior military officers and area experts in the State Department. The
US failure to discharge its responsibilities for providing security as the
occupying power justifies charges of incompetence and even negligence,
but this does not mean that the moral impulse to spread US conceptions
of freedom and human dignity was mere subterfuge. That said, what the
Iraq war highlights is that those who employ human rights rationales will
be believed only if they demonstrate by their actions that military means
are supporting humanitarian values.
The fundamental concern that animates many governments, human
rights international non-governmental organizations and public intellec-
tuals is the deleterious impact of the Iraq war on the developing norm of
humanitarian intervention. The Security Council’s reluctance to act over

Darfur is cited in support of this position, and it is evident that the Iraq
war has made many states, especially in the Arab world, conscious of the
need to reassert the primacy of the non-intervention principle. However,
before succumbing to the gloomy view that the Iraq war has strangled the
emerging norm of humanitarian intervention at birth, two key points
should be borne in mind. First, this pessimistic position exaggerates the
pre-Iraq propensity of states to act for humanitarian purposes pursuant
to the norm. The norm that developed in the 1990s enabled rather than
determined intervention, a point graphically illustrated by the failure to
prevent and halt the Rwandan genocide. In other words, even without
the Iraq war, it is far from clear that the major Western states would
have taken the lead in militarily intervening in the Sudan.
The second reason for some limited optimism is that the 2005 World
Summit Outcome document makes it harder for states to evade their de-
claratory commitment to protect strangers in peril. On the other hand, it
does nothing to address the fundamental problem of what should happen
if the Council is unable to agree in cases where particular states are seek-
ing a mandate to prevent or stop a humanitarian emergency. In the case
of Darfur, for example, the implication of the current position is that, if a
majority of the Council support a request for authorization from a coali-
tion of Western and African states seeking to end the atrocities, and this
is opposed by one or more of the permanent members, then this would
be the end of the matter. Hitherto the willingness of the permanent mem-
bers to veto such a resolution has not been tested since there has been no
enthusiasm from Western states, especially the United States and the
United Kingdom, for such an action. With regard to the United Kingdom
and the United States, the Iraq war has surely played an important part
in sapping their enthusiasm for military intervention. Certainly, it has
done little to strengthen their political credentials as entrepreneurs for
the emergent norm of humanitarian intervention. Consequently, those
with the greatest military capacity to act would face high political costs
were they to do so and, in the absence of compelling strategic rationales,
these have been deemed unacceptable.41 This is not, however, to say that,
were the United Kingdom and the United States to come to the conclu-
sion that the humanitarian catastrophe in Darfur necessitated military
action, members of the Security Council – including those non-Western
permanent members most critical of the action in Iraq – would not feel
compelled to grant a UN mandate in the face of claims that such action
was the only means to end the humanitarian catastrophe. To this extent,
the norm of UN-authorized humanitarian intervention might yet prove
more robust than the critics fear.
Acknowledgements
We would like to thank Alex Bellamy, Ken Berry, Ian Clark, Cian
O’Driscoll, Tim Dunne, Anne Harris, Andrew Linklater, Gerry Simpson
and Paul Williams for their comments on earlier versions of this chapter.
It was originally presented at a conference on ‘‘Iraq and World Order:
Structural and Normative Challenges’’, jointly hosted by the King Prajad-
hipok Institute, the United Nations University and the International
Peace Academy on 17–18 August 2004 in Bangkok, Thailand. We are
grateful to all the participants at the conference for their contribution to
the ideas in the chapter.
Notes
1. For a fuller discussion of this case, see Nicholas J. Wheeler, Saving Strangers: Humani-
tarian Intervention in International Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000),
pp. 55–77.
2. 2005 World Summit Outcome, UN Doc. A/60/L.1, 20 September 2005, hhttp://daccessdds.
un.org/doc/UNDOC/LTD/N05/511/30/PDF/N0551130.pdf?OpenElementi (accessed 26
September 2005), p. 31.
3. It would be wrong to give the impression that this pushing out of the boundaries of le-
gitimate intervention was uncontested. Rather, as the deliberations over intervention in
northern Iraq in 1991 and in Somalia in 1992 demonstrated, there was resistance from
those states that worried about setting precedents that might erode the principle of
non-intervention.
4. Kofi A. Annan, ‘‘Two Concepts of Sovereignty’’, Address to the 54th Session of the
General Assembly, 20 September 1999, reprinted in Kofi A. Annan, The Question of In-
tervention: Statements by the Secretary General (New York: United Nations, 1999), p. 44.
5. This argument is developed in Thomas Franck, Recourse to Force: State Action Against
Threats and Armed Attacks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), p. 185.
6. Even where states are not acting according to narrow self-interests, there is no escape
from selectivity in the application of moral principles. In some cases military interven-
tion is rightly ruled out on the grounds that armed action would do more harm than
good (Chechnya and Tibet are obvious examples here). As Michael Ignatieff notes,
‘‘perfect consistency is a test of legitimacy that political action can never meet, and
hence the prerequisite of consistency serves (even if it does not intend to do so) either
as a justification for doing nothing or as a condemnation of any intervention actually un-
dertaken’’ (Michael Ignatieff, ‘‘Human Rights, Power and the State’’, in Simon Chester-
man, Michael Ignatieff and Ramesh Thakur, eds, Making States Work, Tokyo: United
Nations University Press, 2005, p. 60; Chris Brown, ‘‘Selective Humanitarianism: In De-
fence of Inconsistency’’, in Deen K. Chatterjee and Don E. Scheid, eds, Ethics and For-
eign Intervention, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2003, pp. 31–53).
7. President George W. Bush, ‘‘State of the Union’’ Address, 28 January 2003, hhttp://
www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2003/01/20030128-19.htmli (accessed 10 June 2004).
8. Remarks by the President in Address to the Nation, 17 March 2003, hhttp://www.
whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2003/03/20030317-7.htmli (accessed 10 June 2004).
9. Transcript, the Prime Minister to the National Press Club, The Great Hall, Parliament
House, Canberra, 14 March 2003.
10. Speech by Prime Minister at Labour’s local government, women’s and youth confer-
ences, SECC, Glasgow, 15 February 2003, hhttp://www.scottishlabour.org.uk/tbiraq/i.
11. This argument is developed at length in Wheeler, Saving Strangers.
12. Michael Ignatieff, ‘‘Why Are We in Iraq? (And Liberia? And Afghanistan?)’’, New
York Times, 7 September 2003.
13. William Shawcross, ‘‘Blair Was Right on Iraq’’, Guardian, 21 July 2004.
14. A research team at Bloomberg School of Public Health at Johns Hopkins University in
Baltimore estimated in 2004 that as many as 100,000 civilians had died in Iraq as a direct
or indirect consequence of the US-led invasion. The methodology underpinning the
report has been challenged, and others put the figure much lower. For example, the
Baghdad-based Iraqi human rights organizations estimate the figure at 30,000, and Iraq
Body Count puts the number at 28,000–32,000 (see Elisabeth Rosenthal, ‘‘Study Puts
Iraqi Deaths of Civilians at 100,000’’, New York Times, 29 October 2004; Rob Stein,
‘‘100,000 Civilian Deaths Estimated in Iraq’’, Washington Post, 29 October 2004; Patrick
Wintour and Richard Norton-Taylor, ‘‘No 10 Challenges Civilian Death Toll’’, Guard-
ian, 30 October 2004; and Iraq Body Count, hhttp://www.iraqbodycount.net/i, accessed
2 March 2006).
15. Kenneth Roth, ‘‘War in Iraq: Not a Humanitarian Intervention’’, Human Rights Watch
Report 2004, hhttp://hrw.org/wr2k4/3.htmi (accessed 15 June 2004), p. 6. It is note-
worthy in this respect that, writing a year after his New York Times article cited above,
Ignatieff recognized that ‘‘insincere intentions may prevent good consequences from oc-
curring. If the United States and the United Kingdom actually do not much care about
human rights in Iraq, then they are unlikely to do very much to improve them once they
occupy the country’’ (Ignatieff, ‘‘Human Rights, Power and the State’’, p. 68).
16. See Warren P. Strobel and John Walcott, ‘‘Post-war Planning Non-Existent’’, Knight
Ridder Newspapers, 13 July 2003, hhttp://www.realcities.com/mld/krwashington/9927782.
htmi (accessed 2 March 2006); Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (London: Simon &
Schuster, 2004), pp. 114–115, 117–119, 207–208.
17. Roth, ‘‘War in Iraq’’, p. 7.
18. For a fuller discussion of this problem focusing on the case of US intervention in Af-
ghanistan, see Nicholas J. Wheeler, ‘‘Dying for Enduring Freedom: Accepting Respon-
sibility for Civilian Casualties in the War on Terrorism’’, International Relations, Vol.
16, No. 2 (2002), pp. 205–225.
19. Lawrence F. Kaplan and William Kristol, The War over Iraq: Saddam’s Tyranny and
America’s Mission (San Francisco: Encounter Books, 2003), p. 64.
20. Tony Blair, speech to the Labour Party Conference, 2 October 2001, hhttp://politics.
guardian.co.uk/labourconference2001/story/0,1220,561988,00.htmli (accessed 9 Febru-
ary 2006).
21. For a thoughtful assessment of the mixture of motivations driving Blair over Iraq, see
Christoph Bluth, ‘‘The British Road to War: Blair, Bush and the Decision to Invade
Iraq’’, International Affairs, Vol. 80, No. 5 (2004), pp. 871–893.
22. Ignatieff, ‘‘Human Rights, Power, and the State’’, p. 59.
23. Peter Stothard, Thirty Days: A Month at the Heart of Blair’s War (London: Harper-
Collins, 2003), p. 42.
24. Andrew Rawnsley, ‘‘The Damaging Questions Keep Coming’’, Observer, 14 September
2003; Nick Cohen, ‘‘No Sexing up, Please’’, Observer, 14 September 2003.
25. The Foreign Office’s Deputy Legal Adviser Elizabeth Wilmshurst left the Foreign Office
in March 2003 because she was unhappy with the legal basis of the government’s case.
See Ewen MacAskill, ‘‘Adviser Quits Foreign Office over Legality of War’’, Guardian,
22 March 2003; John Kampfner, Blair’s Wars (London: Simon & Schuster, 2003), p. 304.
26. Lord Goldsmith tendered this advice to Blair on 7 March 2003 and it was finally made
public after intense scrutiny of the legal case for war by Parliament, lawyers and the me-
dia on 28 April 2005. Attorney General’s legal opinion tendered to the Prime Minister
on 7 March 2003, at hhttp://news.bbc.co.uk/1/shared/bsp/hi/pdfs/28_04_05_attorney_
general.pdfi (accessed 12 November 2005).
27. Speech by Prime Minister at Labour’s local government, women’s and youth confer-
ence, SECC, Glasgow, 15 February 2003.
28. Tony Blair, speech on Iraq and the threat of international terrorism, Sedgefield, 5
March 2004, hhttp://politics.guardian.co.uk/speeches/story/0,11126,1162992,00.htmli (ac-
cessed 7 July 2004).
29. Roth, ‘‘War in Iraq’’, pp. 3–4.
30. Gareth Evans, ‘‘When Is It Right to Fight? Legality, Legitimacy and the Use of Military
Force’’, 2004 Cyril Foster Lecture, Oxford University, 10 May 2004.
31. Ibid.
32. Roth, ‘‘War in Iraq’’, pp. 3–4.
33. 2005 World Summit Outcome, UN Doc. A/60/L.1, p. 31.
34. Nicholas J. Wheeler, ‘‘A Victory for Common Humanity’’, Journal of International Law
and International Relations, Vol. 2, No. 1 (Winter 2005).
35. Roth, ‘‘War in Iraq’’; Evans, ‘‘When Is It Right to Fight?’’.
36. Roth, ‘‘War in Iraq’’, p. 1.
37. Rob Crilly, ‘‘Darfur ‘Sliding into Anarchy’ ’’, The Scotsman, 5 November 2005; Robert
I. Rotberg, ‘‘Why Wait on Darfur’’, Boston Globe, 24 October 2005.
38. Glenn Kessler and Colum Lynch, ‘‘U.S. Calls Killings in Sudan Genocide’’, Washington
Post, 10 September 2004.
39. See Alex J. Bellamy, ‘‘Responsibility to Protect or Trojan Horse? The Crisis in Darfur
and Humanitarian Intervention after Iraq’’, Ethics and International Affairs, Vol. 19,
No. 2 (Summer 2005), pp. 31–54.
40. This idea of ‘‘sovereignty as responsibility’’ received its most eloquent expression in the
2001 report The Responsibility to Protect by the International Commission on Interven-
tion and State Sovereignty, hhttp://www.iciss.ca/report-en.aspi (accessed 9 February
2006).
41. Bellamy, ‘‘Responsibility to Protect or Trojan Horse?’’
28
The responsibility to protect and
the war on Saddam Hussein
Ramesh Thakur
The worst act of domestic criminal behaviour by a government is large-

scale killings of its own people; the worst act of international criminal be-
haviour is the attack and invasion of another country. The international
history of the twentieth century was in part the story of a twin-track
approach to tame, through a series of normative, legislative and institu-
tional fetters, both internal and external impulses to armed criminality
by states. This approach attempted to translate an increasingly interna-
tionalized human conscience and a growing sense of international com-
munity into a new normative architecture of world order. Saddam Hus-
sein’s record of brutality was a taunting reminder of the distance yet to
be traversed before we reach the first goal of eradicating domestic state
criminality; his ouster and capture by unilateral force of arms were a
daunting setback to the effort to outlaw and criminalize wars of choice
as an instrument of state policy in international affairs.
But what if the second failure is a response to the first – if one country
is attacked and invaded in order to halt or prevent atrocities inside its
sovereign territory by the ‘‘legitimate’’ government (which already indi-
cates a troubling appropriation and corruption of the word ‘‘legiti-
mate’’)? For answers to this painful dilemma, read The Responsibility
to Protect (R2P), a Report by the International Commission on Inter-
vention and State Sovereignty (ICISS).1 The UN Secretary-General’s
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, borrowing from
R2P, proposed five criteria of legitimacy: seriousness of threat; proper
464
THE RESPONSIBILITY TO PROTECT 465
purpose; last resort; proportional means; and balance of consequences.2

With respect to internal conflicts, the panel explicitly endorsed the ICISS
argument that ‘‘the issue is not the ‘right to intervene’ of any State, but
the ‘responsibility to protect’ of every State’’.3 The legitimacy criteria
will simultaneously make the Security Council more responsive to out-
breaks of humanitarian atrocities than hitherto, and make it more diffi-
cult for individual states or ad hoc ‘‘coalitions of the willing’’ to appropri-
ate the language of humanitarianism for geopolitical and unilateral
interventions. In March 2005, Kofi Annan made an explicit reference to
ICISS and ‘‘the responsibility to protect’’ as well as to the High-level
Panel, endorsed the legitimacy criteria, and urged the Security Council
to adopt a resolution ‘‘setting out these principles and expressing its in-
tention to be guided by them’’ when authorizing the use of force. This
would ‘‘add transparency to its deliberations and make its decisions
more likely to be respected, by both Governments and world public
opinion’’.4
In the event, the ‘‘responsibility to protect’’ was one of the few sub-
stantive items to survive the brutal negotiations toward the very end of
the negotiations prior to the UN World Summit in New York in Septem-
ber 2005. The 2005 World Summit Outcome document contained clear,
unambiguous acceptance by all UN members of individual state responsi-
bility and collective international responsibility to protect populations
from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity,
and a willingness to take timely and decisive collective action for this
purpose, through the Security Council, when peaceful means prove inad-
equate and national authorities are manifestly failing to do it. The con-
cept was given its own subsection title (‘‘Responsibility to protect popu-
lations from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against
humanity’’).5
The triple dilemma of complicity, paralysis or illegality
The Responsibility to Protect is not an interveners’ charter, any more than

the UN Charter is a tyrants’ charter behind which they can shield their
acts of atrocity with impunity. Embedded within the larger framework
of human security, R2P concluded that, where a population is suffering
serious harm as a result of internal war, insurgency, repression or state
failure, and the government in question is unwilling or unable to halt or
avert it, the norm of non-intervention yields to the international respon-
sibility to protect. But, in order to ground international intervention in a
more widely shared international morality, R2P reformulates ‘‘humani-
466 RAMESH THAKUR
tarian intervention’’ as ‘‘the responsibility to protect’’, and identifies the

conditions under which the principle of state sovereignty yields to the in-
ternational responsibility to protect.
The 1990s were a challenging decade for the international community
with regard to conscience-shocking atrocities in many parts of the world.
We generally failed to rise to the challenge and the price of our failure
was paid by large numbers of innocent men, women and children. The
debate on intervention, reinvigorated by the Iraq war in 2003, was ig-
nited in the closing years of the twentieth century by the critical gap be-
tween the needs and distress felt in the real world in Somalia, Rwanda,
Srebrenica and East Timor, the growing acceptance of human security
as an alternative framework for security policy in today’s circumstances,
and the codified instruments and modalities for managing world order.
The triple policy dilemma – complicity, paralysis or illegality – can be
summarized thus:
to respect sovereignty all the time is to risk being complicit in humani-
tarian tragedies sometimes;
to argue that the UN Security Council must give its consent to interna-
tional intervention for humanitarian purposes is to risk policy paralysis
by handing over the agenda either to the passivity and apathy of the
Council as a whole or to the most obstructionist member of the Coun-
cil, including any one of the five permanent members determined to
use the veto clause;
to use force without UN authorization is to violate international law
and undermine world order based on the centrality of the United Na-
tions as the custodian of world conscience and the Security Council as
the guardian of world peace.
Under the impact of contrasting experiences in Rwanda and Kosovo,
UN Secretary-General Annan urged member states to come up with
a new consensus on the competing visions of national and popular
sovereignty – reflecting national and human security – and the resulting
‘‘challenge of humanitarian intervention’’. Responding to the challenge,
Canadian Foreign Minister Lloyd Axworthy set up ICISS as an indepen-
dent international commission to wrestle with the whole gamut of difficult
and complex issues involved in the debate. The ICISS report R2P seeks
to do three principal things: change the conceptual language from ‘‘hu-
manitarian intervention’’ to ‘‘responsibility to protect’’; pin the responsi-
bility on state authorities at the national level and on the UN Security
Council at the international level; and ensure that interventions, when
they do take place, are done properly.
Because R2P is not an interveners’ charter, it does not provide a
checklist against which decisions can be made with precision. Political
contingencies cannot be fully anticipated in all their glorious complexity
and, in the real world, policy choices will always be made on a case-by-
case basis. With that in mind, R2P seeks to identify those conscience-
shocking situations in which the case for international intervention is
compelling and to enhance the prospects of such interventions. In turn,
this means that the circumstances have to be narrow, the bar for inter-
vention high and the procedural and operational safeguards tight, be-
cause the probability of international consensus is higher under condi-
tions of due process, due authority and due diligence.
From ‘‘humanitarian intervention’’ to ‘‘responsibility to

protect’’
‘‘Humanitarian intervention’’ is what humanitarian agencies such as the

International Committee of the Red Cross and the UN High Com-
missioner for Refugees do; they object to the phrase being appropriated
and debased by states engaged in military intervention. ‘‘Humanitarian
bombing’’ as a conceptual oxymoron is immediately obvious to everyone.
Yet the discourse over NATO’s intervention in Kosovo in 1999 was
framed largely in the language of humanitarian intervention – when in
fact that intervention consisted of three months of bombing. So, if that
was humanitarian intervention, then surely it must necessarily also have
been humanitarian bombing? Only those who feel no sense of unease at
‘‘humanitarian bombing’’ should use ‘‘humanitarian intervention’’; the
rest should abandon this phraseology.
It is easy to dub a war a ‘‘humanitarian intervention’’ and so label crit-
ics as ‘‘anti-humanitarian’’. ‘‘Humanitarian intervention’’ conveys to most
Western minds the idea that the principle underlying the intervention is
not self-interested power politics but the disinterested one of protecting
human life. It conjures up in many non-Western minds historical memo-
ries of the strong imposing their will on the weak in the name of the pre-
vailing universal principles of the day, from the civilizing mission of
spreading Christianity to the cultivation and promotion of human rights.
The phrase ‘‘humanitarian intervention’’ is used to trump sovereignty
with intervention at the outset of the debate: it loads the dice in favour
of intervention before the argument has even begun, by labelling and
de-legitimizing dissent as anti-humanitarian. This is why the ex post facto
shift in justification for the war in Iraq, from weapons of mass destruction
and links to al-Qaeda before the war to humanitarian liberation after-
wards, had the net effect of de-legitimizing ‘‘humanitarian intervention’’
instead of legitimizing the Iraq intervention.
Military intervention for human protection purposes is a polite euphe-
mism for war: the use of deadly force on a massive scale. Politics is at the
468 RAMESH THAKUR
core of the contested aspects of such interventions, including the thresh-

old of abuse, legal authority for the intervention, and replacement of the
repressive regime with a more progressive one. For example, if law and
order are to be restored, whose law and whose order will they be? The
answer to this central question provides the best clue to the genuineness
and extent of the transfer of sovereignty from the US occupying power to
an Iraqi government in June 2004.
In any event, answers to all the above questions are profoundly politi-
cal in content, and they are made by political actors on the basis of polit-
ical judgements and calculations. Moreover, the privileging of some crises
that are securitized over those that are not reflects the interests and per-
spectives of the powerful and the rich at the expense of the weak and the
poor. How else do we explain the attention surfeit syndrome with respect
to Iraq alongside the attention deficit syndrome with regard to the Dem-
ocratic Republic of Congo or the crisis in the Darfur region of Sudan?
It also explains why the risk to the soldiers of the intervening, warring-
by-choice countries is minimized by transferring the burden of danger to
the civilians and soldiers of the other side. And it explains the refusal of
the United States, which wields enormously destructive power well be-
yond its borders, to permit such a global exercise of power to be account-
able to international institutions such as the new International Criminal
Court, let alone to those who suffer its consequences. Thus it is all right
for 600 Iraqis, mainly civilians, to die in revenge attacks on Fallujah for
the four Americans killed and mutilated. If done by Saddam Hussein
this would have been called mass murder.
From this to abuse of Iraqi prisoners is not such a big step. It
results from the attitude that ‘‘we’’ are superior beings above the law
and ‘‘they’’ are an inferior species not deserving of the protection of the
law. Thus Rob Corddry of the satirical Daily Show: ‘‘Remember, it’s not
important that we did torture these people. What’s important is that we
are not the kind of people who would torture these people.’’6 That is, re-
pressive regimes can be held accountable for their use of force internally
by foreign governments that insist on exempting their own use of force
internationally from any independent international accountability. In the
case of Saddam Hussein, in order to oust a regime based solely on might
with few redeeming features to make it right, established institutions and
conventions for ensuring that force is legitimately exercised were set
aside by a power supremely confident of its might.
’Twas ever thus, and perhaps ever will be. William Dalrymple, in his
fascinating book on mores governing social intercourse between Euro-
peans and Indians in the eighteenth century, quotes a French writer ex-
plaining why Napoleon Bonaparte planned to invade India and how he
would be received by the natives:
General Bonaparte, following the footsteps of Alexander would have entered

India not as a devastating conqueror . . . but as a liberator. He would have
expelled the English forever from India so that not one of them would have re-
mained and . . . would have restored independence, peace, and happiness to
Asia, Europe, and to the whole world . . . All the Princes in India were longing
for French intervention.7
The above was penned by Louis Bourquien in 1923 – plus ça change, plus
c’est la même chose (the more things change, the more they stay the
same).
The cynical deployment of moral arguments to justify imperialist ac-
tions in Iraq in 2003 has a direct structural counterpart in the British an-
nexation of the kingdom of Awadh (Oudh in its Anglicized version) in the
first half of the nineteenth century. The structure of justification makes
use of a specific set of techniques for the mobilization of democratic con-
sent and international support – through political representatives, the
press and the interested and attentive public – for decisions taken in pur-
suit of national interest by an élite group of policy makers. Tracing its
origins to John Locke and John Stuart Mill, Chatterjee locates it in the
paternalistic belief that people – and hence nations – who are morally
handicapped or in a state of moral infancy deserve a benevolent despot
who will protect and look after them.8
What is remarkable is how many of the same arguments, including the evangelical
fervour, the axiomatic assumption of the mantle of civilisation, the fig-leaf of le-
galism, the intelligence reports, the forgeries and subterfuges and the hard-
headed calculations of national interest, remain exactly the same at the beginning
of the 21st century.9
The collective memory of the people and governments of most develop-

ing countries is that, in the name of moral enlightenment, the European
powers expanded their empires by defiling the lands and plundering the
resources of their subject peoples. This is why the fine talk of humanitar-
ian intervention by Westerners translates in non-Westerners’ historical
consciousness into efforts to resurrect and perpetuate neo-colonial rule
by foreigners. It also explains why so many of them look for the ugly re-
ality of geostrategic and commercial calculations camouflaged under the
lofty rhetoric of spreading Christian humanitarianism. They cannot rea-
sonably be expected to be mute accomplices when Westerners substitute
their mythology of humanitarian intervention for histories of colonial op-
pression. To deny the formerly colonized their own history is to negate
their independent identity.
Where ‘‘humanitarian intervention’’ raises fears of domination based
on the international power hierarchy, R2P encapsulates the element of
470 RAMESH THAKUR
international solidarity. It implies an evaluation of the issues from the

point of view of those seeking or needing support, rather than of the
rights and duty of those who may be considering intervention. It re-
focuses the international searchlight on the duty to protect the villager
from murder, the woman from rape and the child from starvation and
being orphaned.
Sovereignty as responsibility
Intervention for human protection purposes occurs so that those con-

demned to die in fear may live in hope instead. It is based in the double
belief that the sovereignty of a state has an accompanying responsibility
on the part of that state; and that, if the state defaults on the respon-
sibility to protect its citizens, then the fallback responsibility to do so
must be assumed and honoured by the international community. Based
on changes in the real world and evolving best-practice international be-
haviour, the ICISS concluded that it is necessary and useful to reconcep-
tualize sovereignty, viewing it not as an absolute term of authority but as
a kind of responsibility. Crucially, R2P acknowledges that responsibility
rests primarily with the state concerned. Only if the state is unable or un-
willing to discharge its responsibility, or is itself the perpetrator, does it
become the responsibility of others to act in its place. Thus R2P is more
of a linking concept that bridges the divide between the international
community and the sovereign state, whereas the language of humanitar-
ian intervention is inherently more confrontational.
The doctrine of sovereign equality and the correlative norm of non-
intervention are European in origin and construct and they received the
most emphatic affirmation from the newly independent developing coun-
tries (although the United States is second to none in the jealous defence
of national sovereignty against international encroachments). At one
level, the developing countries’ attachment to sovereignty is deeply emo-
tional. In the age of colonialism, most Afro-Asians and Latin Americans
were the victims of Western superiority in the organization and weap-
onry of warfare. Most developing countries are former colonies that
achieved independence on the back of extensive and protracted nation-
alist struggles against the major European powers. The anti-colonial
impulse in their world view survives as a powerful sentiment in the
collective consciousness of the nation. The continuing scars in the collec-
tive memory of the former colonized countries are difficult for many
Westerners to comprehend and come to terms with.
At another level, the commitment to sovereignty is functional. The
state is the cornerstone of the international system. State sovereignty
provides order, stability and predictability in international relations. It

mediates relations between the strong and the weak, the rich and the
poor, and former colonizers and the colonized. With independence, and
following the globalization of the norm of self-determination, the prin-
ciple of state sovereignty was the constitutional device used by newly de-
colonized countries to try to reconstitute disrupted societies and polities
and to restart arrested economic development.
Yet even during the Cold War state practice registered the unwilling-
ness of many countries – not just the major powers but also former colo-
nies such as India and Tanzania – to give up intervention as an instrument
of policy. The many examples of intervention in actual state practice
throughout the twentieth century did not lead to an abandonment of the
norm of non-intervention. Often the breaches provoked such fierce con-
troversy and aroused so much nationalistic passion that their net effect
was to reinforce, not negate, the norm of non-intervention.
R2P’s core principle is that, although the state has the primary respon-
sibility to protect its citizens, the responsibility of the broader community
of states is activated when a particular state is either unwilling or unable
to fulfil its responsibility to protect or is itself the perpetrator of crimes
or atrocities. The foundations of the international responsibility to pro-
tect lie in obligations inherent in the concept of sovereignty; the respon-
sibility of the Security Council, under Article 24 of the UN Charter, for
the maintenance of international peace and security; specific legal obliga-
tions under human rights and human protection declarations, covenants
and treaties, international humanitarian law and national law; and the de-
veloping practice of states, regional organizations and the Security Coun-
cil itself. As a result of agreements they have signed voluntarily, states
now accept many external obligations and international scrutiny.
The UN Charter is itself an example of an international obligation vol-
untarily accepted by member states. On the one hand, in granting mem-
bership of the United Nations, the international community welcomes
the signatory state as a responsible member of the community of nations.
On the other hand, the state itself, in signing the Charter, accepts the re-
sponsibilities of membership flowing from that signature. There is no
transfer or dilution of state sovereignty. Rather, the United Nations is
the chief agent of the system of states for exercising international author-
ity in their name.
Doing it right, doing it well
The substance of the responsibility to protect is the provision of life-

supporting protection and assistance to populations at risk. The goal of
472 RAMESH THAKUR
intervention for human protection purposes is not to wage war on a state

in order to destroy it and eliminate its statehood but to protect the vic-
tims of atrocities inside the state, to embed the protection in reconsti-
tuted institutions after the intervention, and then to withdraw all foreign
troops. Thus military intervention for human protection purposes takes
away the rights flowing from the status of sovereignty, but it does not
in itself challenge the status as such. It is always limited in time to a
temporary period, until the capacity of the state itself to resume its pro-
tective functions can be restored and institutionalized. Intervention may
also be confined to the particular portion of the target state’s territory
where the abuses are actually occurring (for example, Kosovo and not
all of Yugoslavia), and limited to the particular group that is the target
of abuse.
The traditional terms of the ‘‘humanitarian intervention’’ debate do
not adequately take into account the prevention and follow-up assistance
components of external action. Action in support of the responsibility to
protect necessarily involves and calls for a broad range and wide variety
of measures and responses in fulfilment of the accompanying duty to as-
sist. These may include: development assistance to help prevent conflict
from occurring, intensifying, spreading or persisting; support for rebuild-
ing to help prevent conflict from recurring; and, in extraordinary cases,
military intervention to protect at-risk civilians from harm.
The responsibility to prevent conflict necessitates addressing both the
root causes and the direct causes of internal conflict and other human-
made crises putting populations at risk. The responsibility to react re-
quires us to respond to situations of compelling human need with appro-
priate measures, which may include coercive measures such as sanctions
and international prosecution and, in extreme cases, military interven-
tion. The responsibility to rebuild requires us to provide, particularly
after a military intervention, full assistance with recovery, reconstruction
and reconciliation, addressing the causes of the harm the intervention
was designed to halt or avert.
Far from meeting the test of engaging in conflict prevention in Iraq
prior to initiating hostilities, the United Kingdom and the United States
were the most insistent on keeping in place the comprehensive UN sanc-
tions that caused large-scale deaths, inflicted considerable human misery
on Iraqi civilians and negated any efforts at development. The basic
cause of this was Saddam Hussein’s refusal to comply fully with UN de-
mands, but the price of his intransigence was exacted from his people.
Any failure to ‘‘stay the course’’ in Iraq until the security situation has
been stabilized and a self-sustaining and economically viable democratic
and representative system of government has been instituted will cause
still further retroactive erosion of legitimacy of the war.
Threshold criteria and precautionary principles
Military intervention for human protection purposes is an exceptional

and extraordinary measure. To be warranted, there must be serious and
irreparable harm occurring to human beings, or imminently likely to
occur, of the following kind:
large-scale loss of life due to deliberate state action, neglect or inability
to act, or a failed state situation; or
large-scale ethnic cleansing, actual or apprehended, whether carried
out by killing, forced expulsion, acts of terror or rape.
On these criteria, protective intervention would have been an acceptable
option in Iraq in the late 1980s. The major difficulty, of course, was that
Saddam was the West’s ‘‘useful idiot’’ at that time, supported politically
and assisted materially as a bulwark against the revolutionary regime in
Iran. R2P does not envision retroactive validation more than a decade
after the atrocities were committed.
Looking ahead rather than to the past, it would be futile to try to anti-
cipate every contingency and provide a uniform checklist for interven-
tion. Rather, the decision on intervention has to be a matter of careful
judgement on a case-by-case basis. Even when the just cause threshold
of conscience-shocking loss of life or ethnic cleansing is crossed, interven-
tion must be guided by the precautionary principles of right intention,
last resort, proportional means and reasonable prospects.
The primary purpose of the intervention, whatever other motives
intervening states may have, must be to halt or avert human suffering,
if necessary by defeating a non-compliant state or regime. Right inten-
tion is better assured with multilateral operations, clearly supported by
regional opinion and the victims concerned. There was and remains con-
fusion about the mix of George W. Bush’s motives for war: personal (re-
venge for Saddam’s failed attempt to assassinate George Bush Sr, the un-
finished agenda from the 1991 Gulf war for the many policy makers from
that era who were part of the US administration in 2003); oil; geopolitical
(destroying an existing or imminent WMD capability, eliminating a major
node in the international terrorist network with part culpability for 9/11,
securing an alternative to a suddenly less reliable Saudi Arabia for a
large-scale US military presence in the region, securing Israel’s eastern
flank, securing Iran’s western flank in order to intensify pressure on it,
consolidating the entire energy-rich region from Central Asia to the
Middle East); and military-technological (using Iraq as the testing ground
for the revolutionary new doctrine of strategic pre-emption). But there is
consensus that the humanitarian motive was adduced after the fact with
the failure to find any WMD in Iraq or to establish credible links be-
tween Saddam and Osama bin Laden or 9/11.
474 RAMESH THAKUR
If the first principle is not satisfied because there is no clear answer to

‘‘Why Iraq?’’, the second remains problematic because of the failure to
answer ‘‘Why now?’’. Military intervention can be justified only when ev-
ery non-military option for the prevention or peaceful resolution of the
crisis has been explored, with reasonable grounds for believing that lesser
measures would not have succeeded. The verdict on Iraq is clear by now:
all alternative options had not been exhausted, and the UN weapons in-
spectors under Hans Blix could and should have been given more time to
complete their task.
Third, the scale, duration and intensity of the planned military inter-
vention should be the minimum necessary to secure the defined human
protection objective. This is difficult to assess in the case of Iraq, since
human protection was not the primary objective. It does seem that the
main war was conducted with military efficiency, civilians were never the
chief target, and indeed the coalition forces tried to minimize civilian casu-
alties as best they could in an insecure and highly volatile environment.
But although this was true of the major combat phase at the start, civil-
ians have increasingly borne the brunt of the cross-fire between the bel-
ligerents in the post-war insurgency phase. With best-case estimates of
98,000 deaths excluding Fallujah,10 and then with the all-out assault
on Fallujah in November 2004 (which drew a warning from the UN
Secretary-General on the risk of civilian casualties), the equation clearly
has changed.
And, fourth, there must be a reasonable chance of success in halting
or averting the suffering that has justified the intervention, with the con-
sequences of action not likely to be worse than the consequences of inac-
tion. The Iraq war cannot be judged to have met this criterion. On the
contrary, the continuing instability and the rise of Iraq as the hotbed of
terrorist activity as a result of the war were predicted by many analysts.
Right authority and due process
As demonstrated yet again in Iraq, war is a major humanitarian tragedy

that can be justified only in the most compelling circumstances regarding
the provocation, the likelihood of success – bearing in mind that goals
are metamorphosed in the crucible of war once started – and the conse-
quences that may reasonably be predicted. And the burden of proof rests
on the proponents of force, not on dissenters. In particular, we cannot ac-
cept the alternative doctrine that any one state or coalition can decide
when to intervene with force in the internal affairs of other countries,
for down that path lies total chaos. The sense of moral outrage provoked
by humanitarian atrocities must always be tempered by an appreciation
of the limits of power, a concern for international institution-building and

a sensitivity to the law of unintended and perverse consequences – of
which Iraq offers but the latest example.
Given the enormous normative presumption against the use of deadly
force to settle international quarrels, who has the right to authorize such
force, on what basis, for what purpose, and subject to what safeguards
and limitations? In other words, even if we agree that military interven-
tion may sometimes be necessary and unavoidable in order to protect
innocent people from life-threatening danger by interposing an outside
force between actual and apprehended victims and perpetrators, key
questions remain about agency, lawfulness and legitimacy.
R2P came down firmly on the side of the central role of the United Na-
tions as the indispensable font of international authority and the irre-
placeable forum for authorizing international military action. Attempts
to enforce authority can be made only by the legitimate agents of that au-
thority. What distinguishes coercive compliance by armed criminal thugs
from rule enforcement by police officers is precisely the principle of legit-
imacy. The chief contemporary institution for building, consolidating and
using the authority of the international community is the United Nations.
It was set up to provide the framework within which members of the in-
ternational system can negotiate agreements on the rules of behaviour
and the legal norms of proper conduct in order to preserve the society
of states. The Iraq experience proves that it is easier to wage war without
UN blessing than it is to win the peace – but victory in war is pointless
without a resulting secure peace.
The task therefore is not to find alternatives to the United Nations as
a source of authority, but to make it work better than it has. Thus, if
the veto is the source of the Security Council’s ineffectiveness, it should
be eliminated or its use curtailed. The Council’s authorization must be
sought prior to any military intervention. Those calling for an interven-
tion should formally request such authorization, or have the Council raise
the matter on its own initiative, or have the Secretary-General raise it
under Article 99 of the UN Charter. The United Nations’ work can be
supplemented by regional organizations acting within their own jurisdic-
tions, for example the Arab League.
The burden of responsibility, from having the power to make the most
difference, often falls on the United States and other leading powers. The
conceptual connecting rod that links power to authority is legitimacy. In
this sense the United Nations is the symbol of what even major powers
must not do. In the field of state–citizen relations within territorial
borders, the totality of Charter clauses and instruments such as the Uni-
versal Declaration of Human Rights restricts the authority of states to
cause harm to their own people. In the sphere of military action across
476 RAMESH THAKUR
borders, UN membership imposes the obligation on all powers to abjure

unilateral intervention in favour of collectively authorized international
intervention.
If the Security Council rejects a proposal or fails to deal with it in a
reasonable time, alternative options are: consideration of the matter by
the General Assembly in Emergency Special Session under the ‘‘Uniting
for Peace’’ procedure; and action within their area of jurisdiction by re-
gional organizations, subject to subsequent authorization by the Security
Council. In the case of Iraq, the United Kingdom and the United States
tried but failed to obtain a second Security Council resolution explicitly
authorizing military enforcement, failed to seek and clearly would not
have obtained majority support in the General Assembly, and would
have been met with derision had they tried to get Arab League endorse-
ment for war. Even the so-called coalition of the willing was extremely
narrow.
The Security Council should take into account in all its deliberations
that, if it fails to discharge its responsibility to protect in conscience-
shocking situations crying out for action, concerned states may not rule
out other means to meet the gravity and urgency of that situation. This
carries a double risk. Their actions may not be guided by the just cause
and precautionary principles identified in R2P, and so their interventions
may not be done well, with due authority, diligence and process. Alterna-
tively, they may do it very well and the people of the world may conclude
that their actions were necessary, just and proper, in which case the stat-
ure and credibility of the United Nations may suffer still further erosion.
Apropos of this comment from R2P, the opposite conclusion may now be
proffered: that the United Nations’ refusal to authorize war on Iraq in
2003 has been fully vindicated and has restored the organization’s au-
thority and credibility. Had UN authorization been given, it would have
conferred the veneer of legality on the war but made the organization
complicit in an illegitimate war against a sovereign member state. This
suggests that, while UN authorization may be a necessary condition for
legality, it is not a sufficient condition.
Changing demands, expectations and tools
In sum, Iraq fails the test of an R2P-type intervention. Yet, paradoxically,

it highlights the urgency of international endorsement for R2P. The
United Nations is dedicated to peace but is not a pacifist organization.
Its entire Chapter VII focuses on the coercive instruments of statecraft
against wilful transgressors of world order. Sometimes war will be neces-
sary to meet and defeat the challenge from international outlaws. R2P
rests on the premise that one such context for the legitimate and neces-
sary use of armed force is large-scale humanitarian atrocities inside sov-
ereign territory by interposing international military contingents between
victims and perpetrators. But the will to wage war will weaken if force is
used recklessly, unwisely and prematurely. Ill-considered rhetoric about
pre-emptive strikes and about Iraq as an example of ‘‘humanitarian inter-
vention’’ risks draining support from R2P rather than adding to the legit-
imacy of such enterprises.
The world is changing, and changing fast, all around us. Calls for ‘‘hu-
manitarian intervention’’ could arise from any one or more of potential
flashpoints; humanitarian carnage could be triggered by any combination
of contingencies. The continuing tragedies of Liberia, Burundi, Sudan
and the Congo, and the potential tragedy in Myanmar, come readily to
mind. Human nature is fallible, leaders can be weak and corruptible,
and states can be frail and vulnerable to outbreaks of multiple and com-
plex humanitarian crises. Our ability and tools to act beyond our borders,
even in some of the most distant spots in the world, have increased tre-
mendously. This has produced a corresponding increase in demands and
expectations to do something.
An analogy with medicine is appropriate. Rapid advances in medical
technology have greatly expanded the range, accuracy and number of
medical interventions. With enhanced capacity and increased tools have
come more choices that have to be made, often with accompanying phil-
osophical, ethical, political and legal dilemmas. The idea of simply stand-
ing by and letting nature take its course has become less and less accept-
able, to the point where in many countries today parents who refuse all
available treatment for their children can be held criminally culpable for
failure to exercise due diligence.
Similarly, calls for military intervention happen. Living in a fantasy
world is a luxury we cannot afford. In the real world today, the brutal
truth is that our choice is not between intervention and non-intervention.
Rather, our choice is between ad hoc or rules-based, unilateral or multi-
lateral, and consensual or deeply divisive intervention. If we are going to
get any sort of consensus in advance of crises requiring urgent responses,
including military intervention, the R2P principles point the way forward.
The president of the Security Council at the time of the Rwanda geno-
cide in the fateful month of April 1994, Ambassador Colin Keating of
New Zealand, has added his voice thus: ‘‘If the international community
is ever to be able to act effectively for human protection purposes, then it
must pay attention to the recommendations’’ of R2P.11
Establishing agreed principles to guide the use of force to protect civil-
ians under threat will make it more difficult, not less, to appropriate the
humanitarian label to self-serving interventions while simultaneously
478 RAMESH THAKUR
making the Security Council more responsive to the security needs of ci-
vilians. To interveners, R2P offers the prospect of more effective results.
For any international enforcement action to be efficient, it must be legiti-
mate; for it to be legitimate, it must be in conformity with international
law; for it to conform to international law, it must not be inconsistent
with the Charter of the United Nations. To potential targets of interven-
tion, R2P offers the option and comfort of a rules-based system, instead
of one based solely on might. The challenge is neither to deny the reality
of intervention nor to denounce it, but to manage it for the better, so that
human security is consolidated, the international system is strengthened
and all of us come out of it better, with our common humanity not dimin-
ished but enhanced.
Notes
1. The Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International Commission on Intervention

and State Sovereignty (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre for ICISS,
2001). The Report is also available at hhttp://www.iciss.ca/report-en.aspi (accessed 9
February 2006).
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, UN Doc. A/59/565 (New York:
United Nations, December 2004), para. 207.
3. Ibid., para. 201, emphasis in original.
4. Kofi A. Annan, In Larger Freedom: Towards Development, Security and Human Rights
for All. Report of the Secretary-General, UN Doc. A/59/2005 (New York: United Na-
tions, 21 March 2005), paras 122–135.
5. 2005 World Summit Outcome, UN Doc. A/RES/60/1 (New York: United Nations, 24
October 2005), paras 138–140, hhttp://daccessdds.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/N05/487/
60/PDF/N0548760.pdf?OpenElementi.
6. Quoted by Eric Alterman, ‘‘Hawks Eating Crow’’, The Nation, 7 June 2004, p. 10.
7. Quoted in William Dalrymple, The White Mughals: Love and Betrayal in Eighteenth
Century India (New Delhi: Viking, 2002), pp. 147–148. In the event, Napoleon never
got beyond Egypt.
8. Partha Chatterjee, ‘‘Empire after Globalisation’’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol.
39, No. 37 (11 September 2004), pp. 4155–4164, at p. 4158.
9. Ibid., p. 4163.
10. Les Roberts, Riyadh Lafta, Richard Garfield, Jamal Khudhairi and Gilbert Burhnam,
‘‘Mortality before and after the 2003 Invasion of Iraq: Cluster Sample Survey’’, Lancet,
Vol. 364, 30 October 2004. The survey team was from Johns Hopkins University’s
Bloomberg School of Public Health and was assisted by doctors from al-Mustansiriya
University Medical School in Baghdad. Coalition governments disputed the findings,
but failed to provide numbers of civilian casualties themselves whose accuracy can be
assessed against the Lancet article’s.
11. Colin Keating, ‘‘Rwanda: An Insider’s Account’’, in David M. Malone, ed., The UN Se-
curity Council: From the Cold War to the 21st Century (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner,
2004), pp. 500–511, at p. 510.
29
Post-war relations between
occupying powers and the
United Nations
Simon Chesterman
An important aspect of the 2003 invasion of Iraq that is frequently over-

looked is its resurrection and transformation of the law of military occu-
pation. Legal analysis of the conflict has tended to focus on the alleged
right of ‘‘pre-emption’’ (bluntly asserted in the 2002 National Security
Strategy of the United States of America but not invoked by the United
States on this occasion1) and the limits of ambiguous Security Council
resolutions that intimate that force might be used but do not authorize
it. Council resolutions on the aftermath of the conflict were scrutinized
for their potential to legitimize the war retrospectively and for their de-
lineation of the responsibilities of the Coalition Provisional Authority
(CPA) and the United Nations for the political and economic reconstruc-
tion of Iraq.
The fact that either the CPA or the United Nations should have any
such responsibilities was regarded as unremarkable. The first mention of
the United States and the United Kingdom as ‘‘occupying powers’’ was
briefly noted in the popular press, but Iraq quickly fell into the mould of
other post-conflict operations, from Kosovo to Afghanistan. A major crit-
icism of the United States was that it should have sought greater political
legitimacy through the United Nations in order to ensure greater support
on the ground. Only when the political transformation began to unravel
did there appear to be a significant difference between such an operation
being conducted under UN as opposed to US auspices.
Military occupation has a long pedigree, but its relation to the United
Nations has never been fully clarified. At a time when war itself was not
479
480 SIMON CHESTERMAN
illegal and occupation was accepted as an element of war, complicated

rules outlining the rights and responsibilities of an occupying power
were developed over the nineteenth century. By the middle of the twen-
tieth century, however, the prohibition of the use of force enshrined in
the UN Charter – designed ‘‘to save succeeding generations from the
scourge of war’’2 – made occupation law something of an embarrassment.
Though the latter part of that century was not noted for the absence of
conflict, occupation law itself was rarely invoked. The abolition of colo-
nialism and the condemnation of occupation in the 1970 Declaration on
Friendly Relations led some to question whether occupation law had
fallen into desuetude.
In the 1990s, this reticence in principle coincided with a confusion of
practice, as the collapse of government institutions in a series of states
saw the United Nations assert some or all government powers in virtually
every continent. These responsibilities included staging elections in Na-
mibia in 1990 and Cambodia in 1993, restoring a democratic government
in Haiti in 1994, administering the eastern Danube region of Croatia
(Eastern Slavonia) from 1996 to 1998, assuming control of the Serbian
province of Kosovo for an indefinite period from 1999, and ultimately
running the entire territory of East Timor from 1999 until its indepen-
dence in 2002. A similar role was assumed by an ad hoc international
consortium established in 1995 by the Dayton Peace Agreement to over-
see Bosnia and Herzegovina. Though the language of military occupation
was not used, the presence of large numbers of foreign troops, an interna-
tional war crimes process and summary dismissal of its politicians by an
international administrator in Bosnia bore more than a passing resem-
blance to occupied Germany of 1945–1949.
Such comparisons were largely academic until the United States, to-
gether with the United Kingdom, entered and occupied Iraq in 2003.
After some initial resistance, both states ultimately embraced their role
as occupying powers, and Security Council resolutions that endorsed this
position noted specifically the international humanitarian law instruments
concerning military occupation. Occupation law was invoked in part
owing to the controversy surrounding the decision to go to war, but also
reflected a new-found sensibility that special post-conflict obligations fall
to belligerents that choose to enter a conflict voluntarily for reasons as-
serted to be in the common good. Drawing upon the humanitarian inter-
vention discourse through the 1990s, the International Commission on
Intervention and State Sovereignty referred to this in its Responsibility
to Protect report as the ‘‘responsibility to rebuild’’.3
Even the most liberal reading of the instruments governing occupation
law, however, finds it hard to reconcile with military intervention and
RELATIONS BETWEEN OCCUPYING POWERS AND THE UN 481
post-conflict occupation premised on regime change. The essence of oc-

cupation law is that occupation should be temporary and balance the
right of an occupying power to protect its forces against the humanitarian
needs of the civilian population. Transformation of the political and legal
structures of an occupied territory runs against the most basic principles
of occupation. Because this was precisely the purpose of the US-led mili-
tary effort in Iraq, further authority is required – though it is unclear that
this authority is to be found in the Security Council resolutions that gave
ambiguous support to US post-conflict aims in Iraq.
In this chapter, I first survey the law of military occupation before
briefly examining the role of the UN Security Council in post-conflict ad-
ministration. I then turn to the ambiguous responsibilities accorded to
the United States and the United Kingdom as occupying powers in Iraq
from 2003. Though the series of operations through the 1990s referred to
earlier suggests that the Council has the power to modify the traditional
obligations of occupying powers – most spectacularly displayed in Ko-
sovo and East Timor – the provisions adopted in relation to Iraq in 2003
evince some uncertainty as to whether these operations have changed oc-
cupation law itself. The underlying problem is that international law con-
tinues to presume the inappropriateness in all circumstances of the coer-
cive use of force to effect political change in another state. Though it is
undesirable to modify this general principle, there is some evidence that,
where use of force takes place in contravention of the norm, there may
nevertheless be an emerging obligation to contribute to reconstruction
that goes beyond providing for the humanitarian needs of the civilian
population.
The law of military occupation

The laws of war – a troubled body of norms suspended between irrele-
vance to and complicity with its subject matter – provide detailed rules
for the administration of occupied territory. These rules long presumed
that the conclusion of hostilities is marked with a peace treaty or, less
commonly, the destruction of the defeated power and the subsuming of
its territory into that of the victor.
From the end of World War II, however, the acquisition of territory
through military force has been prohibited under international law. This
was merely one aspect of the norm outlawing the use of force more gen-
erally. Article 2(4) of the UN Charter provides that states ‘‘shall refrain
in their international relations from the threat or use of force against the
territorial integrity or political independence of any state, or in any other
manner inconsistent with the Purposes of the United Nations’’. The only
exceptions to this broad prohibition are the ‘‘inherent right of individual
or collective self-defence if an armed attack occurs’’4 and Security Coun-
cil authorized actions under Chapter VII of the Charter.5
A consequence of this new-found suspicion of war as a legitimate pur-
suit in human history is that states are now very reluctant to acknowledge
their position as occupying powers. Military occupation, however, is a
question of fact rather than intent. The 1907 Hague Regulations, for ex-
ample, provide that ‘‘[t]erritory is considered occupied when it is actually
placed under the authority of the hostile army’’.6 The Fourth Geneva
Convention of 1949 confirms that the provisions on occupation apply
‘‘even if the . . . occupation meets with no armed resistance’’.7 Whether a
state formally accepts the role of occupying power is therefore irrelevant
in determining whether the relevant occupation law obligations apply.
This has been the subject of longstanding disagreement, for example
with respect to Israel’s obligations in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. In
May 2003, Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon stirred controversy when
he explicitly referred to Israel’s ‘‘occupation’’ of the Palestinian territo-
ries. Israel has long argued that the territories are, at best, ‘‘disputed’’
and Sharon later said, confusingly, that he used the word in relation to
the Palestinian people but not the territory.8 The International Court of
Justice and the Israeli High Court subsequently held that Israel was in-
deed an occupying power.9
The formal obligations on an occupying power are outlined in complex
provisions – at times reaching quite extraordinary detail – in the Hague
Regulations and the Fourth Geneva Convention. These obligations com-
prise responsibilities and constraints. The occupying power is entitled to
ensure the security of its forces, but is also required to ‘‘take all the mea-
sures in his power to restore, and ensure, as far as possible, public order
and [civil life], while respecting, unless absolutely prevented, the laws in
force in the country’’.10 In addition to other positive obligations, such as
ensuring public health and sanitation, as well as the provision of food and
medical supplies, the occupying power is prohibited from changing local
laws except as necessary for its own security and is limited in its capacity
to change state institutions.11
The underlying premise of occupation, then, is that it should be tempo-
rary. The elaborate provisions in occupation law recognize the need for
regulation of territory during the period of occupation to minimize the
adverse effects on the civilian population, but are inconsistent with occu-
pation for extended periods or for the purpose of transformation of that
territory.12 Occupation law thus provides little support for regime change.
As the commentary on the Geneva Conventions observes, attempts to
justify such change in the course of occupation are not new:
During the Second World War Occupying Powers intervened in the occupied
countries on numerous occasions and in a great variety of ways, depending on
the political aim pursued . . . Of course the Occupying Power usually tried to give
some colour of legality and independence to the new organizations, which were
formed in the majority of cases with the co-operation of certain elements among
the population of the occupied country, but it was obvious that they were in fact
always subservient to the will of the Occupying Power.13
This may be contrasted with the doctrine of debellatio or subjugation that

was asserted by the Allies in their occupation of Germany and Japan
after World War II. Debellatio refers to ‘‘a situation in which a party to
a conflict has been totally defeated in war, its national institutions have
disintegrated, and none of its allies continue militarily to challenge the
enemy on its behalf’’.14 Though the Allies’ title to Germany was not seri-
ously questioned, the implication that the law of occupation did not apply
was convincingly challenged on the basis that international law should
not be presumed to abandon its concern for a population simply because
their national institutions have disappeared. In any case, the 1949 Con-
ventions and subsequent state practice suggest that the doctrine is un-
likely to be applied in the future.15
The 1970 Declaration on Friendly Relations – passed as a unanimous
resolution of the UN General Assembly and therefore evidence of a
widely held view of the law, though not of binding force – appeared to
undermine occupation law further. It provided that ‘‘[t]he territory of a
State shall not be the object of military occupation resulting from the
use of force in contravention of the provisions of the Charter’’.16 This
should be seen, however, in the context of the general prohibition of the
use of force it sought to affirm and in the political context of the ongoing
dispute at the time over the status of the West Bank and Gaza Strip.
The general position, then, appears to be that occupation is generally
frowned upon – not least because it is hard to conceive of situations in
which it might lawfully come about. International humanitarian law, of
course, has long separated the questions of the jus ad bellum (concerning
the decision to resort to war) and the jus in bello (concerning conduct
during hostilities). In the context of the present discussion of jus post bel-
lum (concerning post-conflict obligations), what can be said of occupation
law is that occupation, where it does occur as a matter of fact, should be
limited both in time and in its impact on the relevant territory.
In addition to the prohibition on the use of force, the limitations on an
occupying power provide a second layer of legal norms inconsistent with
coercive transformation of a political system. Nevertheless, the Declara-
tion on Friendly Relations, quoted earlier, stressed that the provisions
condemning occupation should not be construed as affecting the powers
of the UN Security Council. The next section considers the potential role
of the Council as an occupying power, and the following section considers
the ambiguous case of Iraq.
The Security Council’s power to administer territory

The power of the Security Council to administer territory is not men-
tioned in the UN Charter. Nor, however, is peacekeeping, the formula
that came to define UN military activities. Here, as in many other areas
of the Council’s activities, practice has led theory and the Charter has
been shown to be a flexible – some would say malleable – instrument.
That the Security Council might be required to administer a state or
territory was, in fact, contemplated in the drafting of the UN Charter.
At the San Francisco Conference that led to the adoption of the Charter
in 1945, Norway proposed to amend the Chapter VII enforcement
powers of the Council to provide that it should, in special cases, tempo-
rarily assume the administration of a territory if administration by the
occupant state itself represented a threat to the peace.17 This was with-
drawn out of a concern that including such specific powers might be
interpreted as suggesting that other powers not listed were implicitly
excluded.18
In 1947, the possibility of Council administration swiftly assumed prac-
tical significance in two cases: the Free Territory of Trieste and Jerusa-
lem. Early objections were voiced when the Council initially undertook
its obligations in Trieste – notably by the representative of Australia,
who abstained from voting on Resolution 16 (1947) on the grounds that
the Council lacked the authority to exercise such governmental func-
tions.19 Secretary-General Trygve Lie argued that the Council enjoyed a
broad power to maintain peace and security under Article 24 of the
Charter, a position that was accepted at the time by the other Council
members and subsequently endorsed by the International Court of
Justice.20
In the event, however, neither proposal was implemented. As with most
of the Council’s powers, transitional administration remained largely an
intriguing prospect until after the conclusion of the Cold War. And, as
with the Council’s activities in other areas, the manner in which this
power has subsequently been exercised departed substantially from what
was envisaged when the Charter was drafted.
In early 1995, UN Secretary-General Boutros Boutros-Ghali issued a
conservative supplement to his more optimistic 1992 Agenda for Peace.21
Where the 1992 Agenda had been written in the buoyant period of an ap-
parent new concord in international affairs, the Supplement followed the
failed operation in Somalia, inaction in the face of genocide in Rwanda,
and ongoing difficulties in Bosnia and Herzegovina. It noted that these

new intra-state conflicts presented the United Nations with challenges
that it had not faced since the Congo operation of the early 1960s.
Though the language of occupation was not used, the Supplement ob-
served that a feature of these conflicts was the collapse of state institu-
tions, meaning that international intervention had to extend beyond mil-
itary and humanitarian tasks to include ‘‘the re-establishment of effective
government’’. Nevertheless, Boutros-Ghali cautioned against the United
Nations assuming responsibility for law and order, or attempting to im-
pose state institutions on unwilling combatants.22
Such caution notwithstanding, the end of that year saw the United Na-
tions assume responsibility for policing in Bosnia. Twelve months after
the Supplement was published, a mission was established to administer
temporarily the last Serb-held region of Croatia in Eastern Slavonia. In
June 1999, the Security Council authorized another ‘‘temporary’’ mission
to administer the Serbian province of Kosovo. Four months later another
mission was created with effective sovereignty over East Timor until in-
dependence. As indicated in the introduction, these expanding mandates
continued a trend that began with the operations in Namibia in 1989 and
Cambodia in 1993, where the United Nations exercised varying degrees
of civilian authority in addition to supervising elections.
The expansion was part of a larger growth in activism by the Security
Council through the 1990s, which showed itself willing to interpret inter-
nal armed conflicts, humanitarian crises and even disruption to democracy
as ‘‘threats to international peace and security’’ within the meaning of the
UN Charter – and therefore warranting a military response under its aus-
pices. The ‘‘new interventionism’’ was, however, constrained by the in-
ability of the United Nations to develop an independent military capac-
ity; as a result, Council action was generally limited to circumstances that
coincided with the national interests of a state or group of states that were
prepared to lead.23
There is, today, little doubt that the Security Council possesses the
power to administer territory on a temporary basis and that it may dele-
gate that power to the Secretary-General (or his or her representative).24
Recent practice in Eastern Slavonia, Kosovo and East Timor in particular
suggests that this power is now an accepted arrow in the very limited
quiver with which the Council may respond to threats to international
peace and security.
Acceptance in practice, however, has not meant acceptance in theory.
The lack of an institutional capacity to respond to the demands of transi-
tional administration has left the United Nations relying on a variety of
structures built around a core of peacekeeping personnel. The different
operations have thus adopted idiosyncratic mission structures that re-
flected the varying capacities of the regional organizations and UN
agencies involved in each situation. It is occasionally argued that some

form of structural change in the UN system would enable it to respond
more effectively to such challenges in the future. Reviving the Trustee-
ship Council, which suspended operations in 1994, is sometimes men-
tioned in this regard – most prominently by the International Commis-
sion on Intervention and State Sovereignty (ICISS). Its report The
Responsibility to Protect suggests that a ‘‘constructive adaptation’’ of
Chapter XII of the Charter might provide useful guidelines for the be-
haviour of administering authorities.25 For the Trusteeship Council to
provide more than guidance, however, would require a Charter amend-
ment, because Article 78 of the Charter explicitly prevents the Trustee-
ship System from applying to territories that are members of the United
Nations. In any case, the direct associations with colonialism would be
politically prohibitive.
More general political barriers to any such institutional changes were
implicit in the Brahimi Report on UN Peace Operations. Despite the
‘‘evident ambivalence’’ among member states and within the UN Secre-
tariat, the Report noted that the circumstances that demand such opera-
tions were likely to recur:
Thus, the Secretariat faces an unpleasant dilemma: to assume that transitional ad-
ministration is a transitory responsibility, not prepare for additional missions and
do badly if it is once again flung into the breach, or to prepare well and be asked to
undertake them more often because it is well prepared. Certainly, if the Secretariat
anticipates future transitional administrations as the rule rather than the exception,
then a dedicated and distinct responsibility centre for those tasks must be created
somewhere within the United Nations system. In the interim, DPKO [the Depart-
ment of Peacekeeping Operations] has to continue to support this function.26
This was not the subject of any recommendation and was not addressed
in the Secretary-General’s response to the Report.27
It seems probable, then, that any institutional reforms within the
United Nations will be incremental, driven by the exigencies of circum-
stance rather than institutional or doctrinal development. Though po-
litical resistance may prevent development of a policy or institutional
framework for future transitional administrations in theory, it is unlikely
to prevent the demand for such operations in practice.
The occupation of Iraq

Occupation is an ugly word, not one Americans feel comfortable with, but it is
a fact.
(L. Paul Bremer III, May 2003)28
By the time Operation Iraqi Freedom commenced on 20 March 2003, two

discrete post-conflict scenarios for Iraq were in the public domain. The
first was broadly consistent with the plans leaked by the Pentagon in Oc-
tober 2002 for a US-led military government in Iraq modelled on the US
occupation of Japan, with the United Nations providing humanitarian as-
sistance.29 The second scenario, advanced by the United Kingdom and,
to a lesser extent, by the US State Department, included a larger – if es-
sentially undefined – role for the United Nations. The latter position was
implicit in the Azores Declaration issued by the leaders of the United
Kingdom, Spain and the United States days before the outbreak of hos-
tilities,30 but was subsequently downplayed by the Bush administration.
Testifying before the US Senate Foreign Relations Committee in Feb-
ruary 2003, the Departments of State and Defense affirmed that the
United States – rather than the United Nations or some provisional gov-
ernment of Iraqi exiles – would take charge in Baghdad. Civilian tasks
would be carried out under the authority of the Pentagon’s new Office
for Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance (ORHA), established
by Bush on 20 January 2003. ORHA’s director, retired Army Lieutenant
General Jay M. Garner, would report to the President through General
Tommy Franks of Central Command and Secretary of Defense Donald
Rumsfeld. Garner’s tenure in Iraq was a debacle, plagued by inexperi-
ence, bureaucratic infighting and inertia. In less than a month he was re-
placed by L. Paul Bremer III.31
Discussion within the United States tended to focus on a political func-
tion for the United Nations only when considering the question of how
the occupation might be paid for. As the war began, US, UK and UN of-
ficials were exploring the possibility of transforming Iraq’s Oil-for-Food
programme, established by the Security Council in April 1995, into a
more flexible arrangement to allow the United Nations to control goods
purchased under its auspices throughout the country. (Suggestions that
oil revenues might actually cover the military expenses incurred by the
United States in defeating and administering Iraq were confined to the
most radical US think tanks.32 In fact, the Hague Regulations support
this interpretation, allowing an occupying power to administer public as-
sets as a trustee and levy funds for the administration of the territory.33)
Bringing the post-conflict phase of operations under UN auspices had
other financial attractions. Most prominently, Chris Patten, the EU Com-
missioner for External Relations, stated before the war that, if the United
States attacked Iraq without Security Council approval, the European
Union might withhold money for reconstruction. This received vocal sup-
port from French President Jacques Chirac after military operations com-
menced, who argued that France would not support any Security Council
resolution that gave retrospective legitimacy to the conflict. Companies
invited to tender for reconstruction projects also expressed concern

about the legal implications of ongoing Council economic sanctions.34
Though the outcome of the conflict was never in serious doubt, the
manner in which the war was fought served as a proxy for debates within
the United States on the size and posture of its armed forces. The swift
victory demonstrated a paradox of the ‘‘revolution in military affairs’’: a
smaller, faster, more lethal US military might be able to achieve quick
victories over anyone who might stand against it, but, as Rumsfeld under-
stated it, the aftermath of such wars can be most ‘‘untidy’’.35 It soon be-
came apparent that little serious planning had been done on stabilizing
the post-conflict situation, perhaps because of reliance upon best-case
scenarios in which a minimal US presence could draw heavily upon the
pre-existing Iraqi bureaucracy and security sector. Work had commenced
in April 2002 within the State Department’s Future of Iraq Project, in-
cluding the development of extensive plans for post-conflict justice mech-
anisms, but was shelved when responsibility was transferred to the De-
partment of Defense in January 2003.36
For its part, the United Nations engaged only in halting planning for
post-conflict scenarios. An early planning cell was shut down in Decem-
ber 2002 owing to concerns that its very existence might be interpreted as
undermining the position of UN weapons inspectors then in Iraq. A con-
fidential internal ‘‘pre-planning’’ report was requested in February 2003,
which was promptly leaked to the press. The report stressed that the
United Nations lacked the capacity to take on the responsibility of ad-
ministering Iraq, preferring a political process similar to that followed in
Afghanistan. The favoured option – in the context of what was, as the
Secretary-General later emphasized, only preliminary thinking – called
for an assistance mission that would provide political facilitation,
consensus-building, national reconciliation and the promotion of demo-
cratic governance and the rule of law. The people of Iraq, rather than
the international community, should determine national government
structures, a legal framework and governance arrangements.37
There is, of course, a certain irony to this controversy about planning.
The United Nations is criticized when, as in East Timor in 1999, it fails to
plan for a scenario that many regarded as likely. In Iraq, it was criticized
for engaging in preliminary thinking on an eventuality that most re-
garded as inevitable. But the tension within the planning process also re-
flected concerns about a role that might be thrust upon the United
Nations in order to provide political cover for what was essentially a US
military occupation. This suggested an additional incentive for the United
States and the United Kingdom to bring the operation under some form
of UN umbrella. The Fourth Geneva Convention limits the capacity of an
occupying power to change the status of public officials and to impose
new laws.38 As the stated war aims in Iraq included regime change and
the transformation of Iraq into a ‘‘liberal democracy’’, Security Council
authorization provided a sounder basis for such activities.
Resolution 1483 (2003), adopted by the Council on 22 May 2003, was
an uncomfortable compromise that straddled this divide. The resolution
explicitly recognized that the United States and the United Kingdom –
the Coalition Provisional Authority – were occupying powers in Iraq and
called on them to comply with their obligations under the Geneva Con-
ventions and the Hague Regulations.39 Nevertheless, the resolution also
called upon the CPA ‘‘to promote the welfare of the Iraqi people through
the effective administration of the territory, including in particular work-
ing towards the restoration of conditions of security and stability and the
creation of conditions in which the Iraqi people can freely determine
their own political future’’.40 David Scheffer has described this blend of
Council powers and occupation law as ‘‘both unique and exceptionally
risky’’.41
The preamble of the resolution recognized ‘‘the specific authorities, re-
sponsibilities, and obligations under applicable international law of these
states as occupying powers under unified command (the ‘Authority’)’’
and noted that ‘‘other States that are not occupying powers are working
now or in the future may work under the Authority’’.42 This unusual pro-
vision implied that the United States and the United Kingdom were occu-
pying powers, but that other states could participate in reconstruction ef-
forts without taking on the responsibilities of occupiers themselves. As
indicated earlier, occupation is a question of fact rather than intent and
it is unclear whether this preambular reference was intended to supplant
the existing law. Acting under Chapter VII, the Council went on to call
upon ‘‘all concerned’’ to ‘‘comply fully with their obligations under inter-
national law including in particular the Geneva Conventions of 1949 and
the Hague Regulations of 1907’’.43
The contours of Iraq’s ‘‘political future’’ were adumbrated in the
Council’s support for ‘‘the formation, by the people of Iraq with the
help of the Authority and working with the [UN Secretary-General’s]
Special Representative, of an Iraqi interim administration as a transi-
tional administration run by Iraqis, until an internationally recognized,
representative government is established by the people of Iraq and as-
sumes the responsibilities of the Authority’’.44 Other obligations con-
cerned the establishment of a Development Fund for Iraq45 and the
transfer of responsibilities under the Oil-for-Food relief programme to
the CPA.46
The responsibilities of the United Nations in Iraq were ambiguous. Al-
though its role was repeatedly said to be ‘‘vital’’, the powers given to the
Special Representative were intentionally vague: these included ‘‘co-
ordinating’’, ‘‘reporting’’, ‘‘assisting’’, ‘‘promoting’’, ‘‘facilitating’’ and

‘‘encouraging’’ various aspects of humanitarian relief and reconstruc-
tion.47 On the fundamental question of political structures, the Special
Representative was empowered to work ‘‘intensively with the Authority,
the people of Iraq, and others concerned to advance efforts to restore
and establish national and local institutions for representative gover-
nance, including by working together to facilitate a process leading to an
internationally recognized, representative government of Iraq’’.48 Senior
US Defense Department officials described their relationship with the
United Nations as ‘‘input but no veto’’. Sergio Vieira de Mello, previ-
ously Special Representative in both Kosovo and East Timor, was ap-
pointed Special Representative for Iraq and head of the UN Assistance
Mission for Iraq (UNAMI).49 Vieira de Mello and 21 UN colleagues
were killed by a truck-bomb in Baghdad on 19 August 2003 in the worst
attack on civilian staff in the organization’s history.50
Iraq was unique as a transitional administration. Previous operations
where international administrative structures were required can be
grouped into two broad classes: those where state institutions were di-
vided and those where they had failed. The first class encompasses situa-
tions in which governance structures were the subject of dispute, with
different groups claiming power (as in Cambodia or Bosnia), or ethnic
tensions existed within the structures themselves (such as Kosovo). The
second class comprises circumstances in which such structures simply did
not exist (as in Namibia, East Timor and Afghanistan). Neither situation
applied to Iraq. In particular, Iraq had far greater resources – human,
institutional and economic – than any comparable situation in which the
United Nations or other actor had exercised civilian administration func-
tions since World War II. Nevertheless, comparisons with occupied Japan
and Germany were stretched.
No plan, of course, survives contact with the enemy. As Iraq soon
proved, this aphorism of von Moltke applies also to plans coming into
contact with those one presumes will welcome you as friends.
Conclusion
The Iraq wars of 1991 and 2003 bookend a period of unprecedented in-
ternational cooperation in the management of war and peace. Coming
soon after the conclusion of the Cold War, Operation Desert Storm,
which drove Iraq from Kuwait, was heralded by US President George
H. W. Bush as ushering in an era in which the rule of law would replace
the rule of the jungle. A newly activist Security Council outlined an ex-
panding agenda for itself and the United Nations. In its first 44 years the
Council passed 24 resolutions citing Chapter VII or using its terms; by

1993 it was adopting that many Chapter VII resolutions every year.
The rhetoric was euphoric, utopian and short lived. Council activism, it
was soon revealed, depended entirely upon a coincidence of Council
agreement with the willingness of a state or group of states to take action.
When agreement was not forthcoming, as in the case of Kosovo in 1999,
action took place anyway. The Iraq war in 2003 was seen as more troub-
ling because it was not simply the United Nations that was divided but
the European Union and NATO. It was not merely the Council’s author-
ity in peace and security that was being challenged but the idea of inter-
national law as such.
Although the role of the United Nations in providing relief to the Iraqi
civilian population was never questioned – during the second week of the
conflict, a unanimous Council resolution extended the application of the
Oil-for-Food programme51 – reluctance to involve it in post-conflict re-
construction led to a reliance on occupation law unprecedented since
World War II. The return to older legal forms, however, was at odds
with modern sensibilities about the nature of post-conflict responsibil-
ities. As indicated earlier, traditional occupation law would have re-
quired the United States to interfere as little as possible in the local polit-
ical system. The purpose of the US invasion was regime change but, even
if it had not been, there would doubtless have been pressure to leave Iraq
in a better political and economic situation than it was found.
This changed sensibility can in part be traced to the role played by the
United Nations in various post-conflict situations during the 1990s, and in
turn to the recognition that contemporary conflict is increasingly con-
nected to the collapse of state institutions. The forms prescribed by occu-
pation law assume both the capacity and the desirability of maintaining
existing institutions. In Cambodia, Bosnia and Kosovo, divisions within
those institutions had made them unviable; in territories such as Namibia,
East Timor and Afghanistan, such institutions simply did not exist. Ironi-
cally, Iraq was the one country on this list in which existing institutions
might well have been drawn upon – and there is some evidence that key
figures within the Bush administration contemplated quickly positioning
a pliant leader at the top of those structures. When this proved imposs-
ible, deeper obligations quickly had to be assumed.
Former US Secretary of State Colin Powell referred to this as the ‘‘Pot-
tery Barn’’ principle: if you break it, you own it.52 But the principle has a
broader foundation and application. As the International Commission on
Intervention and State Sovereignty observed in the context of humani-
tarian intervention, where military intervention is taken ‘‘there should be
a genuine commitment to helping to build a durable peace, and promot-
ing good governance and sustainable development’’.53 This obligation is
at once ethical and practical. The ethical component is that by inter-

vening in a territory one assumes a special responsibility for the conse-
quences of one’s actions that may approach the level of a fiduciary obli-
gation. The pragmatic component is that failure to resolve underlying
political and economic tensions may leave the problem that gave rise to
intervention in the first place unresolved.
Where the United Nations has assumed such obligations, or provided a
framework for such obligations to be undertaken by specific actors, there
has been minimal suggestion that this represents a colonial or imperial
endeavour. The case of Iraq suggests an ongoing suspicion of the motives
of individual states assuming control of a polity even on a temporary
basis. Diffusing responsibility through multilateralism thus removes accu-
sations of self-interest, but may also remove pressures on a national actor
to conclude its obligations quickly in order to satisfy domestic political
imperatives.
The only element of the transition plan adopted by the CPA in No-
vember 2003 that remained intact was the 30 June 2004 deadline for the
United States to begin withdrawing its influence – a date clearly chosen
with an eye less to the Iraqi political timetable than to the US presiden-
tial election four months later. Appearing on NBC’s ‘‘Meet the Press’’ in
mid-April, L. Paul Bremer III, the US proconsul in Iraq, was asked to
whom, exactly, the United States was planning on handing power on 30
June. ‘‘That’s a good question’’, was the chilling opening to his reply.
‘‘It’s an important part of the ongoing crisis we have here now.’’ Presi-
dent Bush was asked essentially the same thing two days later during a
rare televised news conference. Not known for his love of the United Na-
tions, Bush referred to Lakhdar Brahimi by name as the man ‘‘figuring
out the nature of the entity we’ll be handing sovereignty over’’ to.
US President George W. Bush didn’t need the United Nations going
into Iraq, but he needed the United Nations’ help to get out. This put
the United Nations in an extremely difficult situation: the only thing
worse than the world’s most powerful country shoving you aside as irrel-
evant is when that country hugs you close and calls you the solution to all
of its problems. Such new-found enthusiasm for multilateralism remains
uncomfortable for the United Nations, which is still recovering from the
death of Vieira de Mello and his colleagues. There is no queue of volun-
teers wanting to return to Baghdad to aid a US withdrawal.
But there are signs that the relationship is quickly becoming strained
for the United States as well. Bush administration officials soon began to
backpedal on exactly how much ‘‘sovereignty’’ was to be transferred in
June and how much independence the Interim Government would have.
This was and remains a disastrous move. Better to delay the handover
entirely than to taint a caretaker government with the appearance of
being mere puppets of the United States. This had been the albatross
around the necks of the Iraqi Governing Council. At the same time, the
Oil-for-Food corruption scandal stiffened the spines of conservatives in
Washington who would rather see the United States fail in Iraq than
turn to the organization with the black helicopters for help.
There are no easy options now in Iraq. But there are dangerous signs
that expectations have been lowered to the point where the primary ob-
jective is to get US casualties out of the news as quickly as possible.
Handing power to a dysfunctional Iraqi government – ideally one whose
dysfunction can be blamed on the United Nations – has become the most
attractive option for Washington. It is unlikely to be received well in
Baghdad.
The United Nations itself faces more existential questions. The Iraq
war was a direct challenge to the organization’s role in maintaining inter-
national peace and security by the world’s most powerful state, prompt-
ing the Secretary-General to appoint a High-level Panel on Threats,
Challenges and Change to rethink the very idea of collective security in
a world where that state also feels itself to be the most vulnerable.54 At
the same time, the attack on the United Nations’ Baghdad compound on
19 August 2003 killed respected staff, prompting a scathing review of in-
ternal security procedures and a near-mutiny on the part of staff, who
pushed for a complete withdrawal from Iraq.55 Though it is too soon to
draw confident conclusions on this point, there will be more sustained de-
bates in the future concerning whether the United Nations should refuse
on principle to become involved in conflicts seen to be wars of choice by
the great powers of the day; these debates will turn in significant part on
whether the United Nations’ presence can be meaningful and indepen-
dent.
Underlying this is a larger question of what role the United Nations
can and should play in the structure of world order, a theme running
through much of this book. Does the United Nations exist in order to
play a leading role in maintaining peace and security, or to provide legit-
imacy for those who do? In this context, the history of military occupa-
tion provides a cautionary tale: institutions that are designed to legitimize
that which is otherwise illegal tend themselves to become discredited and
fall into disuse.
Where the United Nations is at its strongest is articulating the norma-
tive context within which collective action takes place and establishing
the conditions for necessary multilateral cooperation. An example
of such norm entrepreneurship may be the Secretary-General’s com-
ments on US abuses at the Abu Ghraib prison outside Baghdad at the
time the United States was seeking an extension of the immunity of its
peacekeeping troops from the International Criminal Court. His observa-
tion that such circumstances made it ‘‘unwise’’ to press for an exemption

stiffened the spine of Council members, and the United States quietly
withdrew the item from the Council’s agenda.56 Such victories – if it was
a victory – may be small; they may restrain rather than exercise power.
But the test of the ‘‘relevance’’ of the United Nations and international
law is not their capacity to force the great power(s) into action or inac-
tion. Rather, it is to provide the grammar for how power is exercised:
providing the forum for elaborating shared perceptions of threats, the
vehicle for responding collectively where possible, and the normative
framework against which unilateralism may be judged.
Acknowledgements
This chapter draws upon some material previously published in You,

The People: The United Nations, Transitional Administration, and State-
Building (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004) and ‘‘Occupation as
Liberation: International Humanitarian Law and Regime Change’’,
Ethics & International Affairs, Vol. 18, No. 3 (2004), pp. 51–64.
Notes
1. It nevertheless had profound implications for the use of force. See the chapters by Ruth
Wedgwood, Charlotte Ku and David Krieger in the present volume.
2. UN Charter, preamble.
3. International Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty, The Responsibility to
Protect (Ottawa: International Development Research Centre, December 2001), avail-
able at hhttp://www.iciss.gc.cai.
4. UN Charter, Art. 51.
5. See, generally, Ian Brownlie, International Law and the Use of Force by States (Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1963).
6. Convention (IV) Respecting the Laws and Customs of War on Land and Its Annex:
Regulations Concerning the Laws and Customs of War on Land (1907 Hague Regula-
tions), done at The Hague, 18 October 1907, 36 Stat 2277, 1 Bevans 631, available at
hhttp://www.icrc.org/ihli, Article 42.
7. Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War (Fourth Gen-
eva Convention), done at Geneva, 12 August 1949, available at hhttp://www.icrc.org/
ihli, Article 2. The right to resistance is a contested area of the law of military occupa-
tion. See Adam Roberts, ‘‘Prolonged Military Occupation: The Israeli-Occupied Ter-
ritories Since 1967’’, American Journal of International Law, Vol. 84 (1990). One im-
portant victory in the representation of the conflict in Iraq was the depiction by even
mainstream news media of armed resistance to the occupation as ‘‘terrorism’’.
8. Glenn Frankel, ‘‘Hopes for ‘Road Map’ Tempered by History; U.S. Role in Plan Seen
as Crucial’’, Washington Post, 3 June 2003.
9. Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory
(Advisory Opinion) (International Court of Justice, 9 July 2004), available at hhttp://

www.icj-cij.orgi; Beit Sourik v. Israel (Israeli High Court, 30 June 2004) HCJ 2056/04.
10. 1907 Hague Regulations, Article 43. On the replacement of ‘‘public order and safety’’
with ‘‘public order and [civil life]’’, see Eyal Benvenisti, The International Law of Occu-
pation (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1993), p. 7.
11. Fourth Geneva Convention, Articles 54–56, 64.
12. David J. Scheffer, ‘‘Beyond Occupation Law’’, American Journal of International Law,
Vol. 97 (2003), p. 848.
13. Jean Pictet, ed., Convention Relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War
(Fourth Geneva Convention): Commentary (Geneva: International Committee of the
Red Cross, 1958), Art. 47.
14. Benvenisti, The International Law of Occupation, p. 92.
15. Ibid., pp. 91–96.
16. ‘‘Declaration on Principles of International Law Concerning Friendly Relations and Co-
operation among States in Accordance with the Charter of the United Nations’’, UN
Doc. A/5217, 25 GAOR, Supp. (No. 28), 1970.
17. (1945) 3 UNCIO 365, 371–372, UN Doc. 2G/7 (n)(1).
18. (1945) 12 UNCIO 353–355, UN Doc. 539 III/3/24.
19. Security Council Resolution 16 (1947). See further Hans Kelsen, The Law of the United
Nations (London: Stevens & Sons, 1950), pp. 825–826.
20. (1947) 2 SCOR, No. 3, p. 44; Legal Consequences for States of the Continued Presence of
South Africa in Namibia (South West Africa) Notwithstanding Security Council Resolu-
tion 276 (1970) (Advisory Opinion) [1971] ICJ Rep 16.
21. An Agenda for Peace: Preventive Diplomacy, Peacemaking and Peace-keeping, Report
of the Secretary-General pursuant to the statement adopted by the Summit Meeting of
the Security Council on 31 January 1992, UN Doc. A/47/277–S/24111, 17 June 1992.
22. Supplement to An Agenda for Peace: Position Paper of the Secretary-General on the
Occasion of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the United Nations, UN Doc. A/50/60–S/1995/1,
3 January 1995, paras 13–14.
23. See Simon Chesterman, Just War or Just Peace? Humanitarian Intervention and Interna-
tional Law, Oxford Monographs in International Law (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2001), pp. 112–218.
24. Danesh Sarooshi, The United Nations and the Development of Collective Security: The
Delegation by the UN Security Council of Its Chapter VII Powers (Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1999), pp. 59–63.
25. ICISS, The Responsibility to Protect, paras 5.22–5.24. The Commission was established
by the Government of Canada in 2000 to seek consensus on the question of human-
itarian intervention. Its co-chairs were Gareth Evans and Mohamed Sahnoun.
26. Report of the Panel on United Nations Peace Operations (Brahimi Report), UN
Doc. A/55/305–S/2000/809, 21 August 2000, hhttp://www.un.org/peace/reports/peace
_operationsi, para. 78.
27. Report of the Secretary-General on the Implementation of the Report of the Panel on
United Nations Peace Operations, UN Doc. A/55/502, 20 October 2000.
28. Scott Wilson, ‘‘Bremer Adopts Firmer Tone for U.S. Occupation of Iraq’’, Washington
Post, 26 May 2003.
29. See, for example, David E. Sanger and Eric Schmitt, ‘‘U.S. Has a Plan to Occupy Iraq,
Officials Report’’, New York Times, 11 October 2002.
30. ‘‘Statement of the Azores Summit’’, Washington Post, 17 March 2003.
31. See, for example, Joshua Hammer and Colin Soloway, ‘‘Who’s in Charge Here?’’,
Newsweek, 26 May 2003.
32. See, for example, Nile Gardiner and David B. Rivkin, Blueprint for Freedom: Limiting
the Role of the United Nations in Post-War Iraq (Heritage Foundation, Backgrounder
No. 1646, Washington, DC, 2003).
33. 1907 Hague Regulations, Articles 48, 49, 55.
34. Jackie Spinner, ‘‘Firms Cite Concerns with Iraqi Sanctions’’, Washington Post, 3 May
2003.
35. Peter J. Boyer, ‘‘The New War Machine’’, New Yorker, 30 June 2003, pp. 55, 70–71.
36. Peter Slevin and Dana Priest, ‘‘Wolfowitz Concedes Iraq Errors’’, Washington Post, 24
July 2003.
37. James Bone, ‘‘UN Leaders Draw up Secret Blueprint for Postwar Iraq’’, The Times
(London), 5 March 2003. Humanitarian contingency planning – some of which was
leaked in December 2002 – was less controversial and more advanced.
38. See above notes 11–12.
39. Resolution 1483, UN Doc. S/Res/1483 (2003), preamble and para. 5.
40. Ibid., para. 4. This was later confirmed in Resolution 1500 (2003), which also welcomed
the establishment of the Governing Council of Iraq.
41. Scheffer, ‘‘Beyond Occupation Law’’, p. 846.
42. Resolution 1483 (2003), preamble.
43. Ibid., para. 5.
44. Ibid., para. 9.
45. Ibid., paras 12–14, 17.
46. Ibid., para. 16.
47. Ibid., para. 8.
48. Ibid., para. 8.
49. Report of the Secretary-General Pursuant to Paragraph 24 of Security Council Resolution
1483 (2003), UN Doc. S/2003/715, 17 July 2003, paras 2 and 100.
50. See, for example, Robert F. Worth, ‘‘Last Respects Are Paid to Head of UN Mission in
Iraq’’, New York Times, 22 August 2003.
51. Resolution 1472, UN Doc. S/Res/1472 (2003). The preamble noted the obligation
imposed on an occupying power by the Fourth Geneva Convention to ensure ‘‘to the
fullest extent of the means available to it . . . the food and medical supplies of the popu-
lation’’.
52. See Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004).
53. ICISS, The Responsibility to Protect, para. 5.1.
54. See Chapter 28 in this volume.
55. See David M. Malone, ‘‘Nobody Said It Would Be Safe’’, International Herald Tribune,
1 October 2004.
56. Warren Hoge, ‘‘Annan Rebukes U.S. for Move to Give Its Troops Immunity’’, New
York Times, 17 June 2004.
30
‘‘Common enemies’’: The United
States, Israel and the world crisis
Tarak Barkawi
From the late 1940s, the Arab–Israeli conflict was woven into the fabric
of world politics, with consequences far beyond the Middle East itself.
The conflict’s wider effects are due not only to the significance of oil but
to the ways in which it is implicated in US domestic politics and foreign
policy as well as in conceptions of US identity. During the Cold War, and
in the wake of the Holocaust, moral and humanitarian concern coupled
with domestic political interests led to US support of Israel. But this sup-
port had to be balanced against good relations with Arab states, where
oil was to be found and where the threat of Soviet influence loomed.
From 1967, however, the United States and Israel, despite rocky mo-
ments, were drawn ever more closely into one another’s orbit. With the
advent of the ‘‘war on terror’’, the US–Israeli relationship has taken on
a new significance and is now a critical pivot determining events in the
Middle East and beyond.
To speak of a conflict as being part of the structure of world politics, as
a dynamic form of interconnection between and among Israel, Palesti-
nians, Arab states, US domestic politics, European economies and third
world debts fuelled by petro-dollars (to list only a few possibilities), is
not the normal way in which many analysts and commentators think
about conflict and world order. Typically, conflicts are viewed first and
foremost as ‘‘problems’’, as aberrations in the normal flow of relations
and as breakdowns of communication and interchange.
Perhaps because of its length and global reach, the Cold War occa-
sioned another kind of analysis. The US–Soviet confrontation was seen
497
498 TARAK BARKAWI
as structuring world politics in far-reaching ways. A crucial element that

made the Cold War ‘‘fungible’’, allowing its categories to be effortlessly
applied to diverse situations around the world by Western analysts and
policy makers, was the construction of a common enemy: the commu-
nists. Parties to conflicts in the third world, be they Vietnamese or Arab
nationalists, Congolese anti-colonialists or peasants struggling against
landlords in any of a number of countries, found themselves defined –
and acted upon – in terms of competing Western ideologies of modern-
ization, communism or liberal democracy.
During the Cold War, no amount of explaining that third world con-
flicts had their own local sources or that they had systemic sources other
than US–Soviet confrontation (such as decolonization or the world
economy) would serve to convince hawks in the United States that US
prestige and credibility were not at stake in Angola, or Indonesia, or
Timbuktu. ‘‘Communism’’ connected all these conflicts together. In a
nutshell, the significance of the Israel–Palestine conflict for contempo-
rary world politics is that, for the United States, the common enemy
in the war on terror – in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in the Philippines and
elsewhere – has come to be defined in no small measure through certain
Israeli categories. The Bush administration and its neoconservative ideo-
logues have powerfully linked this enemy with core aspects of US iden-
tity and purpose, in ways strongly reminiscent of the Cold War. As a re-
sult, through the close relationship between US identity and US foreign
policy, especially in wartime, ideological categories derived from the
Israel–Palestine conflict are playing a central role in the present world
crisis and the coming long decades of struggle it portends.
Identities, enemies and strategies

Identity relations are a crucial component of conflicts. Identity is as im-
portant to conflict as conflict is to identity. Conceptions of the ‘‘Self’’ re-
quire imaginings of an ‘‘Other’’. Moments of perceived threat and danger
serve as incitements to define the Self against the enemy Other. Studies
of this relationship between threat and identity have tended to focus on
only one side of a conflict, as in David Campbell’s classic Writing Secu-
rity, which concerns US Cold War identity.1 As valuable as such studies
are, they can easily overlook some of the interactive identity dynamics in
conflict situations. Particular identities facilitate particular strategies and
approaches to a conflict, while making other possible strategies appear ir-
rational.2 This link between strategy and identity means that untoward
outcomes on the battlefield can reverberate at home, causing an identity
crisis. For if a nation (or voices within it) defines itself in terms of an op-
THE UNITED STATES, ISRAEL AND THE WORLD CRISIS 499
position to the enemy Other, then that national identity becomes in some
way dependent on the enemy. Enemy actions and pronouncements can
confirm or destabilize that identity.
An example is found in the Tet offensive of 1968. The United States
conceived its role in Viet Nam within terms that reflected its construction
of the Cold War. The world was seen as divided between two blocs – one
slave, one free. It went without question that the denizens of the free
world wanted to be free, so any ‘‘subversion’’ or resistance was inter-
preted as emanating from the Soviet bloc countries, infecting the free
world. Insurgencies were read as evidence of external attack. ‘‘What
Chairman Khrushchev describes as wars of liberation and popular upris-
ings’’, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara remarked, ‘‘I prefer to
describe as subversion and covert aggression.’’3 This basic framing of
the Cold War – that the United States was assisting ‘‘free peoples’’ in de-
fending themselves against external attack – was already present in the
Truman Doctrine speech: ‘‘It must be the policy of the United States to
support free peoples who are resisting attempted subjugation by armed
minorities or by outside pressures.’’4 As many have commented, this vi-
sion of the Cold War and of the United States’ role in it licensed overly
militarized responses to multifaceted conflicts in the third world, as in
Viet Nam.
As conventionally interpreted, the significance of the Tet offensive is
that it exposed as hollow the claims of steady US progress beforehand,
fatally undermining domestic support for continued involvement even
though the offensive itself failed at heavy cost to the Vietnamese commu-
nists. This is not, however, the whole story. Whatever its reality, Tet ap-
peared on television screens and in other media representations as a gen-
eral popular uprising against the Saigon regime and its US backers. It
was no longer possible for Americans to evade the fact that the Viet-
namese people were against the ‘‘freedom’’ the United States was offer-
ing. After Tet, the United States sought withdrawal rather than victory.
The initial framing of the conflict in Viet Nam, as one primarily about
‘‘communist subversion’’ from outside, not only led the United States to
adopt a heavily militarized and counterproductive strategy – one preg-
nant with the possibility of defeat – but also left core US identity con-
structions vulnerable in the eventuality of such a defeat. Precisely be-
cause of the heavy implication of US identity in its Viet Nam venture,
the defeat became a more general crisis of the US body politic. It chal-
lenged the identity relations and ideological constructs that had inspired
intervention in Indo-China in the first place. Was the United States on
the side of freedom or of oppression, its citizens asked?
In the years since 1975, the Americans have subsequently discovered
that really, despite all appearances and all those dead Vietnamese, they
500 TARAK BARKAWI
always were on the side of ‘‘the people’’ in Viet Nam. There has been a
sustained retelling and reinventing of the meaning of the Viet Nam war
in US political ideology and popular culture, turning it into something
Americans can take pride in.5 The neoconservative movement that ex-
erted such profound influence over the Bush administration in the wake
of the attacks of 11 September 2001 has its origins in this retelling of the
Viet Nam war. Several neoconservatives who became prominent fled the
Democratic Party during and after Viet Nam. They felt the Democrats
had lost the will to use force in the service of US values abroad. After
Viet Nam, two neoconservatives argue, ‘‘[t]he suspicion of American
power inherent in contemporary liberalism now became a reflexive oppo-
sition to the exercise of American power around the world’’.6 Because
US values are synonymous with liberty and freedom the world over, this
was a grave crime indeed. The solution was to narrate US involvement in
Viet Nam as a story in which the United States had tried to do the right
thing but had been thwarted by nefarious forces in the form of the anti-
war movement, the news media, liberals, Washington bureaucrats and
faint-hearted politicians. In this way, the verdict of Tet – that the United
States was not on the side of ‘‘the people’’ – was erased and the United
States reinstated as the defender of the oppressed everywhere, willing to
use its military power to liberate them.
This kind of imaginary work was crucial to re-empowering the milita-
rized US internationalism so evident in the ‘‘liberation’’ of Iraq. A strat-
egy to invade and liberate Iraq could appear appropriate and rational
only in a United States that had successfully rewritten the history of the
Viet Nam war. But this framing of Iraq – as a potentially ‘‘free people’’
oppressed by a tyrant – left both US strategists and ordinary Americans
unprepared to meet a popular resistance. As such, resistance to the
Americans was once again represented as the work of ‘‘armed minor-
ities’’, this time ‘‘Saddam loyalists’’ and ‘‘foreign terrorists’’. President
Bush remarked in October 2003 that ‘‘[w]e’re working hard with
freedom-loving Iraqis to help ferret these people out before they at-
tack’’.7 By definition, anyone opposing the United States cannot be a
‘‘freedom-loving Iraqi’’ because the United States stands for freedom. In-
deed, the Iraqi insurgents are now referred to as ‘‘anti-Iraqi forces’’ by
the US military. Elsewhere, President Bush described the resistance in
Iraq as comprising ‘‘killers’’ whose main goal – like that of the opponents
of the Viet Nam war – was to ‘‘cause America and our allies to flee our
responsibilities’’ for spreading freedom.8
This framing of the situation in Iraq, despite its resonances with US
élite and popular self-perception, is dysfunctional in strategic terms. The
implication is that the sources of resistance are to be found not in a
complex political, cultural and social context fuelled by totalitarianism,
conquest and occupation, but rather in an identifiable group of ‘‘cold-
blooded killers’’ who must be ‘‘ferreted out’’ and destroyed. As in the

Cold War, subversion is seen as coming from the ‘‘outside’’, not from
the people the United States seeks to free, when in fact it is the United
States that has invaded Iraq. When the ‘‘ferreting out’’ comes in the
form of heavy-handed use of military force, it contains the potential to
generate further popular Iraqi resistance, which will only use up more
US blood and treasure and try US resolve further, until there is no longer
a political coalition in Washington willing to sustain the costs of continued
involvement in Iraq.
Crucial to this identity dynamic between the United States and Iraq is
a construction of the enemy Other. This construction has much more to
do with US identity than with any rational analysis of the security situa-
tion. That enemy is of course ‘‘terror’’. ‘‘The return of tyranny to Iraq
would be an unprecedented terrorist victory, and a cause for killers to
rejoice,’’ President Bush remarked.9 It is here that we turn to Israel–
Palestine. This particular idea of terror as the enemy was in part made
available to the United States through its implication in the Israeli–
Palestinian conflict and through the close identification of the neoconser-
vative movement with the Israeli right. In identifying their enemy as
‘‘terror’’ and in insisting on the cessation of ‘‘terror’’ prior to meaningful
negotiations, hard-line Israelis, as well as Palestinian responses to their
policies, have shaped the Israel–Palestine conflict in distinctive ways. Of
special significance are the ways in which the notion of ‘‘terror’’ serves to
obfuscate the sources and nature of violent resistance and makes any
other strategy than ‘‘no appeasing of terror’’ appear irrational, for to
give in to ‘‘terror’’ is to encourage more ‘‘terrorism’’. A spiral of terrorist
attack and harsh reprisal is set in train, one that encourages the digging
in of heels on both sides, de-legitimizes negotiation and compromise,
and inspires further and ever more violence.
Using ‘‘terror’’ to frame the enemy Other results in particular strategic
and identity dynamics. These dynamics are now evident in the develop-
ing war on terror, in the fighting in Iraq, and in US constructions of these
conflicts. Some of the core ideas and interpretations of events that have
driven US leadership, and that have been popularized through various
media, are derived directly from and modelled on those of the Israeli
right. Tracing out the genealogy of these ideas and some of their conse-
quences illuminates important aspects of the contemporary world crisis
and of the United States’ role in it.
Incubating the war on terror
In 1995, Benjamin Netanyahu published a slim volume entitled Fighting

Terrorism: How Democracies Can Defeat Domestic and International Ter-
502 TARAK BARKAWI
rorists.10 Netanyahu’s concise treatment encapsulates the state of the

then-developing field of terrorism studies and demonstrates the unusual
ideological utility of ‘‘terror’’, ‘‘terrorism’’ and ‘‘terrorists’’ as representa-
tions of enemies and their violence. This utility rests in part on the facility
with which ‘‘terror’’ can be linked to diverse conflicts, particularly those
involving the violence of the ‘‘weak’’ against the ‘‘strong’’, creating an
imaginary alliance among all those who use ‘‘terror’’. Netanyahu also
makes a very important move, although he is by no means the first to do
so. He links Israel with the West and identifies ‘‘terror’’ as the common
enemy of both. If Israel is at war against ‘‘terror’’, rather than with occu-
pied Palestinians or Arab states, security relations with the United States
are that much warmer, because ‘‘terror’’ can be the United States’ enemy
too.
The linkages between identity, strategy and foreign policy, and this
utility of ‘‘terror’’, are evident in Netanyahu’s framing passages. ‘‘Terror-
ism is back’’, the book begins. Rather than defining the term, Netanyahu
lists examples: the 1993 attack on the World Trade Center, the Oklahoma
City bombing, ‘‘terrorist attacks from Beirut to Buenos Aires’’, a Paris
subway bombing and the Aum Shinrikyo attack in Tokyo.11 What is left
entirely unclear, and is never addressed in the book, is why such diverse
events, actors and uses of violence should be grouped under one category,
even one he goes on to subdivide between domestic and international.
What, exactly, ‘‘is back’’? Even if one granted for the sake of argument
that these uses of violence fell under a common classification, it would
be ridiculous to suggest – as Netanyahu implies – that these instances
were the work of some common enemy. This implied assumption that
the use of a ‘‘tactic’’ is indicative of an ‘‘alliance’’ of some kind among
all who use it lies at the origins of any notion of a war on terror.
On its own, this move is so transparently absurd as to be unsustainable.
It amounts, as some wag remarked, to declaring war on all airplanes
rather than on Japan after the attack on Pearl Harbor. What it requires
is a vision of a unitary enemy behind acts of terror, and this enemy is of
course radical Islam, yet slippage is left to insist that one is at war not
with Islam, or Palestinians, per se, only with terror. In laying out the rise
of militant Islam and its terror threat, Netanyahu’s book serves as a
‘‘roadmap’’ to the war on terror, which was to follow six years after its
publication. All of the major terms of debate are present, beginning with
references to Charles Martel’s defeat of raiding ‘‘Saracens’’ at Poitiers in
732, invoked to establish the supposed long-running, primordial hostility
between Islam and the West.12 Terrorism and dictatorship, an expansive
category into which Netanyahu places the Soviet Union, authoritarian
Arab states, Iran and so on, are associated in ways that make non-
democratic regimes a threat by their very existence: terrorism ‘‘is not an
incidental characteristic of dictatorships; it is their quintessential, defining

attribute’’.13 Through this mechanism, he links terrorism to Arab state
sponsors and counsels hostility towards these states. This is the same
logic that appeared in Bush’s pronouncements immediately after 9/11, in
which he insisted that the United States would make no distinction be-
tween terrorists and the states that harboured them. Netanyahu identifies
Gaza as the archetypal terrorist enclave, arguing that Israel’s participa-
tion in the Oslo process created this enclave – drawing the lesson that ne-
gotiation and compromise with terrorists are counterproductive and that
terrorist enclaves should be directly controlled by security forces. Finally,
his penultimate chapter speculates on the possibilities of terrorist use of
weapons of mass destruction (WMD), in particular an Iranian nuclear
weapon, sketching out the relations between ‘‘rogue states’’ and WMD
that marked justifications for the invasion of Iraq.
Throughout the text, in his discussions of past, present and future, Ne-
tanyahu links Israeli security concerns to Western security concerns. This
sounds somewhat forced in his account of the ‘‘Soviet–Arab terrorist net-
work’’ and the ‘‘Soviet–PLO axis’’, or in his ham-fisted efforts to liken
Ba’athist pan-Arabism to Hitler’s pan-German nationalism.14 However,
as he moves into the 1990s, this association of Israel with the West via
common enemies becomes progressively more plausible. This plausibility
is achieved through the logic of a simple syllogism: terrorism/militant
Islam is hostile to Western democracy; Israel is a Western democracy;
therefore Israel and the West share a common enemy. Netanyahu argues
that Islam was hostile to the West long before Israel came into existence,
so no one should assume that, if Israel did not exist or was forced to
make peace with the Arabs and Palestinians, hostility between Islam
and the West would evaporate. He emphasizes: ‘‘The soldiers of militant
Islam and Pan-Arabism do not hate the West because of Israel; they hate
Israel because of the West.’’15 Overall, we are left with a link between
terror, Islam and dictatorship, on the one hand, and the West, democracy
and Israel on the other. Netanyahu manages deftly to work the 1990s
themes of a ‘‘democratic peace’’ into his imagined geography of a war
on terror, in which Israel is the West’s front-line against the ‘‘rest’’.
The suggestion here is not that Netanyahu’s book represents a plan
that was later followed by the United States or that, in and of itself, it
was directly influential. Rather, the book represents an effective blending
of the ideas that would later provide the ideological framing of the ‘‘war
on terror’’ after the shock of 9/11. This will become even clearer in
consideration of some neoconservative texts below. The linkages be-
tween the Israeli right, elements of the US national security complex –
especially certain influential think tanks, publications and lobbying outfits
– and the neoconservatives themselves are well established and frequently
504 TARAK BARKAWI
commented upon.16 It is not a mystery how ideas such as Netanyahu’s

came to circulate in Washington.
Netanyahu adds another crucial piece to the picture, the idea that ‘‘ter-
rorism’’ is an evil beyond redemption or understanding: ‘‘nothing justifies
terrorism . . . it is evil per se’’.17 His reasoning is simple. The definition of
civilized warfare is that it tries to proscribe deliberate attacks on ‘‘de-
fenseless civilians’’; the notion of a war crime takes on meaning only in
this context. In completely ignoring the line between combatants and ci-
vilians, in its ‘‘uninhibited’’ and ‘‘brazen’’ resort to violence, ‘‘terrorism
attacks the very foundations of civilization and threatens to erase it alto-
gether by killing man’s sense of sin, as Pope John Paul II put it’’.18 Any
attempt to excuse terrorism, to justify it or to take seriously the reasons
for it proffered by terrorists themselves is to participate in this erasure of
civilization: ‘‘For if anything is allowable, then even the gassing of a mil-
lion babies in Auschwitz and Dachau is also permissible’’, intones Neta-
nyahu, turning ham-fisted again.19
A few implications of the equation of terror with evil must be drawn
out, for it is a key trope of the war on terror. Like the notion of ‘‘peace’’,
which everyone is in favour of, it is easy to condemn ‘‘terror’’, which
people find distasteful as well as dangerous. Yet as E. H. Carr pointed
out some time ago, those who benefit from the status quo – and want to
continue to do so without having to fight for it – are likely to trumpet the
virtues of peace while condemning war as evil.20 What Netanyahu calls
‘‘terror’’ can be an effective weapon in the hands of those who lack other
weapons; it is often a form of resistance by the weak against the strong. It
is hardly surprising that the strong would seek to discredit such a weapon
in moral terms. Doing so has the additional advantage, one that Netan-
yahu eagerly seizes on, of silencing any justification for using such a
weapon in the first place, since, by assertion, nothing can justify it. What
Netanyahu has outlined is a kind of principled deafness by which the
powerful righteously refuse any dialogue with their opposition until the
latter disarm, even though it is the very taking up of arms in the first
place that made the strong pay attention. The utility of such a position
for sections of the Israeli right, who wish to remain in possession of Pal-
estinian lands regardless of the consequences, is obvious; its value for the
West in the war on terror is much less evident.
One more point needs to be made here. Netanyahu defines as civilized
those who make war with a distinction between combatant and civilian,
whereas those who do not make such a distinction are uncivilized. This
idea fits with long-established Western constructions of lawful and just
war. Israeli commentators regularly distinguish between suicide bombers
who directly target civilians and their own forces, who occasionally harm
civilians in their efforts to strike militants and terrorists. That more civil-
ians are killed ‘‘accidentally’’ by Israeli forces than purposely by Palesti-

nian terrorists does not matter in this construction of what is at stake eth-
ically. As Victor Davis Hanson explains: ‘‘[W]e in the West call the few
casualties we suffer from terrorism and surprise ‘cowardly’, the frightful
losses we inflict through open and direct assault ‘fair’.’’21 The effect of
this kind of attitude in the face of asymmetric war is to dismiss as ‘‘collat-
eral damage’’ the losses inflicted on civilian populations in Iraq and Af-
ghanistan, while feeling Western losses – for example, the far fewer killed
on 9/11 itself – particularly deeply. When coupled with the stance of prin-
cipled deafness, this is a recipe for continued escalation, because those
‘‘frightful’’ losses tend to inspire more ‘‘terrorism’’ and ‘‘surprise’’ on the
part of the weak.
From theory to policy
Netanyahu’s ideas reflect a particular milieu of security thought and prac-

tice in the 1990s. As Stefan Halper and Jonathan Clarke have argued,
many of the ideas developed in the 1990s by neoconservatives and others
became policy after 9/11.22 George W. Bush had never intended to be a
foreign policy president, and had explicitly rejected the idea of ‘‘nation-
building’’. After the strikes on New York and the Pentagon, President
Bush required not only a plan but an overall paradigm, and the neocon-
servatives and their allies in his administration were ready with one. They
seized the moment almost immediately. Richard Clarke, National Coor-
dinator for Counter-terrorism in the Bush administration until March
2003, relates how, when he returned to the White House on 12 Septem-
ber 2001, ‘‘I walked into a series of discussions about Iraq . . . I realized
. . . that Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz were going to take advantage of this na-
tional tragedy to promote their agenda about Iraq.’’23 Although the CIA
was already certain that al-Qaeda had conducted the strikes, Wolfowitz
was insisting – in line with long-held views such as Netanyahu’s about
state sponsorship of terror – that al-Qaeda must have had assistance
from Iraq.
‘‘Having been attacked by al Qaeda, for us now to go bombing Iraq in
response would be like our invading Mexico after the Japanese attacked
us at Pearl Harbor’’, Clarke remarked.24 What seemed so bizarre to him
made perfect sense in the context of the neoconservative agenda worked
out in the 1990s. That agenda had long included regime change in Iraq.25
There was simply no place, at least initially, in the state-centric neocon-
servative outlook that could take on board something like the global net-
work enterprise that is the ever-shifting al-Qaeda. But related and more
important was the turn to what Lawrence F. Kaplan and William Kristol
506 TARAK BARKAWI
termed a ‘‘distinctly American internationalism’’.26 This involved the use

of US power aggressively to further ‘‘freedom’’ abroad, exactly the policy
that the neoconservatives argue was an unnecessary casualty of the de-
bacle in Viet Nam.27 A liberated Iraq was to be the bridgehead of ‘‘free-
dom’’ in the Middle East, regardless of whether or not this was an appro-
priate response to the threat posed by al-Qaeda and its affiliates. As Vice
President Cheney put it before the invasion, when Saddam is removed
‘‘the freedom-loving peoples of the region will have a chance to promote
the values that can bring lasting peace’’.28 And so an attack by a non-
state actor on the United States, an actor the United States had been in-
strumental in creating, is turned into a neo-colonial occasion to bring de-
mocracy to Middle Eastern states by force.29
It is in this context (‘‘democracy’’ vs. ‘‘dictatorship’’) that the US war
on terror is most easily linked with Netanyahu’s vision of an embattled
‘‘Western’’ Israel fighting the same fight. In early April 2003, with the in-
vasion of Iraq under way, the Project for the New American Century (a
neoconservative ‘‘educational’’ organization) sent a letter to President
Bush on Israel and the war on terror.30 It was signed by many prominent
neoconservatives as well as other US security analysts. The letter opens
by identifying Israel as a liberal democracy under attack by ‘‘murderers
who target civilians’’, insisting that ‘‘we Americans ought to be especially
eager to show our solidarity in word and deed with a fellow victim of
terrorist violence’’. The differences between the armed resistance of an
occupied people and al-Qaeda’s strikes on the United States are here
erased through the magic of ‘‘terror’’. The letter urges the President to
accelerate his efforts to remove Saddam Hussein from power, citing the
fact that ‘‘Saddam, along with Iran, is a funder and supporter of terrorism
against Israel’’. Pressuring Israel to negotiate with Yasser Arafat is
likened to pressuring the United States to negotiate with Osama bin
Laden or Mullah Omar, and the Palestinian Authority is described as a
‘‘cog in the machine of Middle East terrorism’’. In these constructions,
it becomes increasingly difficult to separate out US from Israeli interests;
they appear as one and the same. ‘‘No one should doubt that the United
States and Israel share a common enemy . . . You have declared war on
international terrorism, Mr. President. Israel is fighting the same war.’’
In fact, the United States had come to be fighting Israel’s war, at least,
as Netanyahu and his allies might envision it, taking out one of Israel’s
most implacable enemies in Iraq and threatening Iran and Syria, the two
next-largest worries for Israeli security planners. The United States was
attacked by al-Qaeda, not by Iraq. Yet notions of state sponsorship of
terror, of the link between ‘‘dictatorship’’, Islam and terror, and of re-
gime change as the solution came to overshadow the actual group that
had attacked the United States. All of these terms were packaged to-
gether by Netanyahu and others long before 9/11. Just before the first an-
niversary of that day, President Bush told some members of the US
House of Representatives: ‘‘The war on terrorism is going okay; we are
hunting down al Qaeda one-by-one . . . The biggest threat, however, is
Saddam Hussein and his weapons of mass destruction. He can blow up
Israel and that would trigger an international conflict.’’31
‘‘The Israelization of America’’
It is not as surprising as it should be that the President of the United

States would downplay to the US Congress an enemy that had directly
attacked the United States in favour of one that might harm Israel. As
Senator J. William Fulbright remarked in 1973, ‘‘[o]n every test on any-
thing the Israelis are interested in the Senate . . . the Israelis have 75 to 80
votes’’.32 If anything, this tally increased after 9/11. In November 2001,
89 senators wrote to President Bush urging him not to restrain Israel
from ‘‘using all [its] might and strength’’ against Palestinian terrorism.33
This occurred at a time when many sensible commentators were urging
Israeli restraint because of the utility of the Israel–Palestine conflict for
al-Qaeda propaganda, that is, for the enemy that had only recently in-
flicted a heavy blow on the US homeland. Many mistakenly attribute US
support for Israel to Jewish influence and the pro-Israeli lobby. To be
sure, this lobby is effective and powerful, but it would not be nearly so
effective if it were not advocating policies that a broad range of Ameri-
cans see as in US interests and as reflecting US purposes in the world.34
The question becomes why do so many Americans find it both conge-
nial and necessary to make common cause with Israel? The reason is that
they define the meaning and identity of the United States in ways that
make Israel a ‘‘friend’’, and supporting this friend is a test of US charac-
ter and strength. This occurs in several ways – some religious, as when
Israel is seen as a vital prerequisite to the second coming of Christ; some
strategic, as when Israel is seen as a loyal ally against the Soviets or rad-
ical Islam; and some Kantian, in that they invoke a fraternity of demo-
cratic republics.
None of these different strands is exclusive of the others and each pre-
dates 9/11. They also frequently have purchase across the political spec-
trum. In a famous article critical of Israeli policies, George Ball (an
Under Secretary of State in the administrations of John F. Kennedy and
Lyndon B. Johnson) wrote in 1977: ‘‘Not only must Americans admire Is-
rael, there can be no doubt that we have an interest in, and special re-
sponsibility for, that valiant nation.’’35 As early as 1969, Gerald Ford (a
Republican and the then House Minority Leader) had stated that ‘‘the
508 TARAK BARKAWI
fate of Israel is linked to the national security interests of the United

States’’. Eugene Rostow (Under Secretary of State for Political Affairs
under President Lyndon B. Johnson) warned in apocalyptic terms:
It is unthinkable that the international community could stand idly by . . . if Israel

were in danger of destruction. The moral and political convulsion that such an
event would engender is beyond calculation. It could spell the end not only of
the Atlantic alliance, but of liberal civilization as we know it.36
During the Reagan era, Israel was designated a major non-NATO ally
of the United States, and relations between the United States and Israel
were characterized by frequent dialogue and consultation, including the
establishment of a US–Israeli free trade area in 1985. An agreement to
intensify political, security and economic cooperation between the
United States and Israel in 1988 began by reaffirming ‘‘the close relation-
ship between the United States of America and Israel, based on common
goals, interests, and values’’.37 In April 1996, President Clinton and Prime
Minister Peres reaffirmed US–Israeli strategic cooperation, and signed a
US–Israel Counter-Terrorism Cooperation Accord, setting up a joint
task force to oversee the implementation of the agreement.38 The US
and Israeli militaries developed close relations, ranging from arms pro-
curement to trips for US service academy cadets to Israel.39
For present purposes, the hard facts about US–Israeli relations are less
important than the sentiments of affinity and emotional attachment of
which they are indicative. The effective evocation of sentiments of affinity
creates a bond, a sense of shared identity and purpose. Representations
of war and sacrifice can intensify these bonds, and in doing so they create
an imagined geography of conflict that informs policy in fundamental
ways. For example, consider the notion of the ‘‘Western allies’’ in World
War II and the associated tropes of liberation through war and conquest.
President Bush invoked these tropes to the graduating class of the US
Air Force Academy by quoting General Eisenhower’s message to the
troops who would invade Normandy: ‘‘The hopes and prayers of liberty-
loving people everywhere march with you.’’40 Bush was attempting to
link his war on terror with both World War II and the Cold War, likening
something called ‘‘the ideology of terror’’ to ‘‘the murderous ideologies
of the 20th century’’.41 The notion of an ‘‘ideology of terror’’ serves to
conflate the different reasons for which various groups take up arms
against Western values and interests. Much else is at work in these tropes
of the West and World War II. There is, for example, the curious disasso-
ciation of Nazi Germany from ‘‘the West’’. As Martin Lewis and Kären
Wigen observe, imagined geographies are vehicles ‘‘for displacing the
sins of Western civilization onto an intrusive non-European Other in our
midst’’.42 Germany returns to the West only after being schooled in de-
mocracy by the United States and its allies.
The sometimes expanding, sometimes contracting ‘‘West’’ was very
much in evidence in the invasion of Iraq. In US policy pronouncements
and in much US news commentary, the West was reduced to an Anglo-
American rump, with some assistance from Spain, for a time, and
Eastern Europe. Most of Western Europe was considered undeserving
of fully fledged membership in the West precisely because of its unwill-
ingness to engage in military action for purposes of liberating a ‘‘free
people’’. Robert Kagan’s very widely read and influential Paradise and
Power exemplifies this move.43 Israel, however, does much better in
these terms. ‘‘You’ve worked tirelessly to strengthen the ties that bind
our nations – our shared values, our strong commitment to freedom,’’
President Bush told the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AI-
PAC) in May 2004, something very difficult to imagine him saying sin-
cerely in regard to France, for example.44
After 9/11, rather than seeing the Israeli occupation of the West Bank
and Gaza as an underlying cause of terrorism, Israel was viewed as an
allied republic under assault from the same enemy. In the immediate
aftermath of the strikes on New York and Washington, the number of
Americans who said their sympathies lay with the Israelis rather than
the Palestinians increased to 55 per cent from 41 per cent the previous
month.45 That the United States had been grievously wounded by this
same enemy was represented as creating a new bond between the United
States and Israel, one in which the United States had greater empathy
with Israel’s plight. In April 2002, as Israel was on the offensive in the
West Bank, Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz told a rally of US
supporters of Israel and Prime Minister Sharon that, ‘‘[s]ince September
11, we Americans have one thing more in common with Israelis. On that
day, America was attacked by suicide bombers. At that moment, every
American understood what it is like to live in Jerusalem or Netanya or
Haifa.’’46 Later that same month, the House Majority Whip Tom DeLay
told AIPAC that Israel should not give up ‘‘Judea’’ and ‘‘Samaria’’ and
described Israel as ‘‘the lone fountain of liberty’’ in the Middle East,
while referring to the Palestinian Authority as a ‘‘holding company for
terrorist subsidiaries’’.47 This ‘‘Israelization of America’’ was evident in
Bush’s speech to AIPAC in 2004 too.48 Invoking the purported common
experience of the United States and Israel, President Bush remarked
‘‘[w]e experienced the horror of being attacked in our homeland, on our
streets, and in places of work. And from that experience came an even
stronger determination, a fierce determination to defeat terrorism and to
eliminate the threat it poses to free people everywhere.’’49 This warmth
of feeling is reciprocated in Israel. Israelis, unlike people in nearly every
510 TARAK BARKAWI
other country around the world, backed the re-election of Bush over his
Democratic challenger in November 2004 by over two to one.50
That Israel and the United States face a ‘‘common enemy’’ begs the
question of who this enemy is. In Bush’s AIPAC speech he makes the
obligatory concession to reality that ‘‘not all terrorist networks answer
to the . . . same leaders’’ but then insists that ‘‘all terrorists burn with the
same hatred’’ of people who love freedom and that all terrorists kill with-
out shame or mercy, counting their victories in the number of dead inno-
cents.51 As with Netanyahu, the ‘‘terrorism is evil’’ line is not sufficient
on its own and so Bush goes on to list a number of instances of terrorist
attack, spread widely over time and space, that have only one thing in
common: the nominally Muslim identity of the perpetrators – nominal
because at least one case was the work of secular Palestinian nationalists.
Bush’s list includes Nicholas Berg, beheaded in Iraq; Daniel Pearl, killed
in Pakistan; Leon Klinghoffer, killed in the Mediterranean; and ‘‘blood
on the streets’’ of Jakarta, Jerusalem, Casablanca, Riyadh, Mombasa, Is-
tanbul, Bali, Baghdad and Madrid. ‘‘Every terrorist is at war with civili-
zation, and every group or nation that aids them is equally responsible
for the murders that the terrorists commit,’’ Bush concludes.52 Vice Pres-
ident Dick Cheney produced a similar list in October 2003, referring to a
‘‘global campaign’’ waged by a ‘‘terrorist network’’ ranging from Casa-
blanca to Bali.53
The degree to which al-Qaeda represents a tightly controlled hierarchy
or a looser network of more or less affiliated organizations, or both in dif-
ferent times and places, is open to dispute.54 Equally, the notion that var-
ious resistance organizations might draw from a similar pool of personnel
as well as financial and ideological resources can also be debated. But
Bush and Cheney offer expansive views of a common enemy, in ways
strongly reminiscent of Cold War representations of a unitary communist
threat. On their account, ‘‘civilization’’, of which the Anglo-American–
Israeli rump is the main defender, is at war with what they see as a wide-
spread pathology of Islam. To arrive at this vision, they must erase the
differences between, for example, the despair of long-term occupation
and desire for revenge that inspire many Palestinian suicide bombers;
Jemaah Islamiya’s strike in Bali in October 2002; and Moro resistance in
the Philippines, which has been under way in one form or another since
the Spanish arrived in the sixteenth century. Strategically speaking, it
would seem to be in US interests to disarticulate these various conflicts
by addressing their direct sources, including past and present US policies.
However, in terms of US identity, it is precisely the expansive vision of
civilization’s enemy that resonates.
There is some slippage and mobility in the notion of what ‘‘civiliza-
tion’’ is being defended. Is it ‘‘the West’’? It is notable that, in Rostow’s
formulation, the fate of the Atlantic alliance and of ‘‘liberal civilization’’

hangs on the willingness of the ‘‘international community’’ to aid Israel.
A feature of the diplomacy surrounding both the Israel–Palestine conflict
since 9/11 and the war in Iraq is increasing tension between the US and
West European powers (including the United Kingdom) over Palestine.
The warm language of common cause consecrated by blood sacrifice
that US leaders reserve for Israel, and the intensity of pro-Israeli feeling
among many Americans, are difficult to find in relation to Europe, with
the exception of the United Kingdom. ‘‘The American people join me in
expressing condolences to Prime Minister Sharon and all the people of
Israel, and in reiterating our common dedication to the cause of fighting
terrorism,’’ President Bush stated after a suicide bombing in Haifa in Oc-
tober 2003.55 When the Israelis killed the commander of Hamas’ military
wing in July 2002 by F-16 strike, the CIA station chief in Israel tele-
phoned the Chief of Staff of the Israeli Defense Forces and the Director
of the Shin Bet to say ‘‘great job’’.56 The imagined geography at work
here is not the familiar one of ‘‘the West’’, but something new, perhaps
‘‘post-Western’’ in John Gray’s term, of which two intensely religious so-
cieties are the core: the United States and Israel.57
More recently, there has been close cooperation between Israel and
US forces over Iraq. Israeli military and intelligence officials have trained
US counterparts preparing to go to Iraq, in part to develop a programme
of targeted killings designed to dismantle the Iraqi insurgency modelled
on Israeli operations in the occupied territories.58 UK advice to adopt a
‘‘hearts and minds’’ approach has been much less warmly received by the
Americans.59 The British have a much more successful record in counter-
insurgency than either the Israelis or the Americans. Israeli tactics in the
occupied territories have created isolated cells led by young, often inex-
perienced and aggressive individuals not subject to central control. More
generally, the Israelis have little prospect of winning hearts and minds in
the occupied territories and so a coercive, militarized strategy is the only
one available. Iraq is a much different conflict and, despite the presence
of foreign elements interested in spoiling a positive outcome, a ‘‘hearts
and minds’’ strategy was a rational way forward, one fully concordant
with announced US purposes to liberate and rebuild Iraq.
The problem is that, in the US/Israel vision of ‘‘terror’’, the enemy is
not conceived as someone whose heart and mind are potentially winna-
ble. Rather, the enemy is composed of dedicated, fanatical terrorists.
One of the planners involved in the US–Israeli counter-terror initiative
in Iraq is Lieutenant-General William Boykin, an evangelical Christian
who has likened the Muslim world to Satan, claiming it wants to ‘‘destroy
us as a Christian army’’ and that it hates the United States ‘‘because we
are a nation of believers’’.60 To be sure, many US officers have a less es-
512 TARAK BARKAWI
chatological account of the war on terror and the nature of the insur-
gency in Iraq than Boykin. But Boykin’s vision is far more compatible
with US identity as the defender of ‘‘free peoples’’ under attack from
‘‘armed minorities’’ who must be found, fixed and destroyed. The ten-
dency at all levels, from the US military to the US public, will be to see
policies and strategies that fit with this identity as more rational and ap-
propriate. As a senior British army officer remarked of US soldiers in
Iraq, ‘‘[they] view things in very simplistic terms. It seems hard for them
to reconcile the subtleties between who supports what and who doesn’t in
Iraq. It’s easier for their soldiers to group all Iraqis as the bad guys. As
far as they are concerned Iraq is bandit country and everybody is out to
kill them.’’61
The US/Israeli vision of the enemy is a recipe for continued escalation
of the war on terror, in ways that increasingly take on the form of a clash
of civilizations. Neoconservative ideologues eagerly seize on this possibil-
ity. Daniel Pipes, whom President Bush has appointed to the board of the
US Institute of Peace, speaks of a long-term conflict between the West
and militant Islam. Like Bush, he sees Islamism as a ‘‘totalitarian move-
ment that has much in common with fascism and Marxism-Leninism’’.62
Such claims are now commonplace in US political discourse. But Pipes’
‘‘West’’ is not what it seems at first take: ‘‘The Europeans, with their low
birth rates, have brought in immigrants from Islamic countries. Indicators
suggest that Europe is gradually becoming part of the Muslim world.’’ He
sees Christianity and Islam on a collision course, competing for converts
and territory: ‘‘The main centers of Christian vigor are now in Africa,
Latin America and Asia.’’63
This language of religiosity and conversion is at odds with standard
accounts of a secular and rational Western modernity. Gray argues that,
unlike the United States, Western Europe is ‘‘post-Enlightenment’’ in
that it has largely given up on the idea of a ‘‘universal civilization’’, as
well as the armed imposition of this civilization on ‘‘natives’’. The United
States, in the view of Gray and others, is diverging from Europe across a
range of indicators. Not only do more Americans go to church, but their
Protestantism is the most fundamentalist in Christendom. ‘‘Just under 70
per cent of Americans believe in the devil, compared with a third of the
British, a fifth of the French and an eighth of the Swedes . . . America’s
secular traditions are weaker than Turkey’s.’’64
One of the key confusions in Samuel Huntington’s thesis of a clash of
civilizations is the notion that conflicts of belief among different civiliza-
tions can lead to war. War and conflict are in fact opportunities for voices
within communities to redefine and refashion dominant identities. Such is
the case in the war on terror, for the United States, for Islam and for the
West. Whereas much commentary has focused on the diplomatic tensions
between Europe and the United States over Iraq, less attention has been
paid to the kind of increasingly fundamental divergence – across a range
of social, cultural and political dimensions – that Gray identifies. The war
on terror is both an example and an agent of this divergence. For many
Europeans, terror is a problem to be managed, something they have lived
with, something that is not eradicable, and something to which the pri-
mary response should be increased policing and intelligence. For Ameri-
cans, terror is an evil against which a crusade must be waged. In this they
have in part taken their cue, their language with which to conceive the
enemy, from a certain strand of Israeli thinking. The tragedy in the mak-
ing is that the battlegrounds of the war on terror will come increasingly to
resemble those in Israel–Palestine. ‘‘Close your eyes for a moment, and
you can imagine that the [US] Marines in Karbala are Golani infantry in
Tul Karm.’’65 Iraqi imaginations need little prompting: they already refer
to US soldiers in Iraq as ‘‘Jews’’.66
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Brian Job and the participants in the United Nations Univer-
sity and International Peace Academy workshop on ‘‘Iraq and World Or-
der: Structural and Normative Challenges’’ for comments on earlier ver-
sions of this chapter. It draws in part on previously published work. See
Tarak Barkawi, ‘‘Globalization, Culture and War: On the Popular Medi-
ation of ‘Small Wars’ ’’, Cultural Critique, No. 58 (Autumn 2004); ‘‘On
the Pedagogy of ‘Small Wars’ ’’, International Affairs, Vol. 80, No. 1 (Jan-
uary 2004); and Globalization and War (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield,
2005).
Notes
1. David Campbell, Writing Security: United States Foreign Policy and the Politics of Iden-
tity (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992).
2. See Tarak Barkawi, ‘‘Strategy as a Vocation: Weber, Morgenthau and Modern Strategic
Studies’’, Review of International Studies, Vol. 24, No. 2 (April 1998).
3. Quoted in Michael McClintock, Instruments of Statecraft: US Guerrilla Warfare,
Counter-Insurgency, Counter-Terrorism, 1940–1990 (New York: Pantheon, 1992), p. 174.
4. Quoted in John Lewis Gaddis, Strategies of Containment: A Critical Appraisal of Postwar
American National Security Policy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982), pp. 64–65.
5. See, for example, Susan Jeffords, The Remasculinization of America: Gender and the
Vietnam War (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989).
6. Lawrence F. Kaplan and William Kristol, The War over Iraq: Saddam’s Tyranny and
America’s Mission (San Francisco: Encounter Books, 2003), p. 57.
514 TARAK BARKAWI
7. Quoted in Brian Knowlton, ‘‘US to ‘Stay the Course’ in Iraq’’, International Herald
Tribune, 28 October 2003, p. 1.
8. ‘‘President’s Radio Address’’, 1 November 2003, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/
releases/2003/11/print/20031101.htmli (accessed 3 November 2003).
9. Ibid.
10. Benjamin Netanyahu, Fighting Terrorism: How Democracies Can Defeat Domestic and
International Terrorists (New York: Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1995).
11. Ibid., p. 3.
12. Ibid., pp. 82–83.
13. Ibid., p. 75.
14. See, for example, ibid., pp. 60, 62, 85.
15. Ibid., p. 87; emphases in the original.
16. See, for example, Stefan Halper and Jonathan Clarke, America Alone: The Neo-
conservatives and the Global Order (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004).
17. Netanyahu, Fighting Terrorism, p. 21.
18. Ibid., pp. 21–22. The irony of condemning Muslim violence via the Papacy – which
licensed the Crusades – does not seem to have occurred to Netanyahu.
19. Ibid., p. 21.
20. E. H. Carr, The Twenty Years’ Crisis 1919–1939: An Introduction to the Study of Inter-
national Relations (London: Macmillan, 1946), pp. 51–53.
21. Victor Davis Hanson, Carnage and Culture (New York: Anchor Books, 2002), p. 97.
22. Halper and Clarke, America Alone.
23. Richard A. Clarke, Against All Enemies: Inside America’s War on Terror (New York:
Free Press, 2004), p. 30.
24. Ibid., pp. 30–31.
25. See, for example, Richard Perle, ‘‘Iraq: Saddam Unbound’’, in Robert Kagan and
William Kristol, eds, Present Dangers: Crisis and Opportunity in American Foreign and
Defense Policy (San Francisco: Encounter Books, 2000).
26. Kaplan and Kristol, The War over Iraq.
27. Ibid., pp. 65–67, 115–118.
28. Quoted in ibid., p. 100.
29. On the role of US policy in creating al-Qaeda, see Gabriel Kolko, Another Century of
War? (New York: The New Press, 2002); and Mahmood Mamdani, Good Muslim, Bad
Muslim: America, the Cold War and the Roots of Terror (New York: Pantheon Books,
2004).
30. Project for the New American Century, ‘‘Letter to President Bush on Israel, Ara-
fat and the War on Terrorism’’, 3 April 2002, hhttp://www.newamericancentury.org/
Bushletter-040302.htmi (accessed 17 May 2004).
31. Quoted in Bob Woodward, Plan of Attack (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2004),
p. 186.
32. Quoted in Bernard Reich, The United States and Israel: Influence in the Special Relation-
ship (New York: Praeger, 1984), p. 190.
33. Quoted in Dana H. Allin and Steven Simon, ‘‘The Moral Psychology of US Support for
Israel’’, Survival, Vol. 45, No. 3 (Autumn 2003), p. 130.
34. Ibid., p. 131.
35. Quoted in Reich, The United States and Israel, pp. 178–179.
36. Both quoted in ibid., p. 179.
37. ‘‘Memorandum of Agreement between the United States and the State of Israel Re-
garding Joint Political, Security, and Economic Cooperation’’, JINSA Online, 21 April
1988, hhttp://www.jinsa.org/articles/view.html?documentid=182i (accessed 17 May
2004).
38. ‘‘U.S.-Israel Joint Statement on Strategic Cooperation’’, JINSA Online, 30 April 1996,
hhttp://www.jinsa.org/articles/view.html?documentid=184i (accessed 17 May 2004).
39. Jason Vest, ‘‘The Men from JINSA and CSP’’, The Nation, 2 September 2002, hhttp://
www.thenation.com/doc/20020902/vesti (accessed 18 May 2004).
40. Quoted in ‘‘Remarks by the President at the United States Air Force Academy
Graduation Ceremony’’, 2 June 2004, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/
06/20040602.htmli (accessed 3 June 2004).
41. Ibid.
42. Martin Lewis and Kären Wigen, The Myth of Continents: A Critique of Metageography
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), p. 68.
43. Robert Kagan, Paradise and Power: America and Europe in the New World Order (Lon-
don: Atlantic Books, 2003).
44. ‘‘Remarks by the President to American Israel Public Affairs Committee’’, 18 May
2004, hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2004/05/20040518-1.htmli (accessed 18
May 2004).
45. The Gallup Organization, ‘‘Americans Show Increased Support for Israel Following
Terrorist Attacks’’, 19 September 2001, hhttp://poll.gallup.com/content/default.aspx?ci
=4915&pg=1i (accessed 10 February 2006).
46. Quoted in NewsMax.com Wires (UPI), ‘‘Hard-line Israeli Supporters Boo Wolfowitz’’,
16 April 2002, hhttp://www.newsmax.com/archives/articles/2002/4/15/204626.shtmli (ac-
cessed 17 May 2004).
47. Quoted in Barbara Slavin, ‘‘Don’t Give up 1967 Lands, DeLay Tells Israel Lobby’’,
USA Today, 23 April 2002, hhttp://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2002/04/24/aipac.
htmi (accessed 18 May 2004).
48. Gideon Samet titled one of his columns in Haaretz ‘‘The Israelization of America’’,
4 April 2003, hhttp://www.haaretzdaily.com/hasen/objects/pages/PrintArticleEn.jhtml?
itemNo=280488i (accessed 18 May 2004).
49. ‘‘Remarks by the President to American Israel Public Affairs Committee’’.
50. Alan Travis, ‘‘We Like Americans, We Don’t Like Bush’’, Guardian, 15 October 2004,
p. 4.
51. ‘‘Remarks by the President to American Israel Public Affairs Committee’’.
52. Ibid.
53. ‘‘Remarks by the Vice President to the Heritage Foundation’’, 10 October 2003, hhttp://
new.heritage.org/Research/MiddleEast/DickCheneySpeech.cfmi (accessed 10 February
2006).
54. See, for example, Jason Burke, Al-Qaeda: Casting a Shadow of Terror (London: I. B.
Tauris, 2003); Mark Duffield, ‘‘War as a Network Enterprise: The New Security Terrain
and Its Implications’’, Cultural Values, Vol. 6, Nos 1 & 2 (2002), pp. 153–165.
55. ‘‘President Condemns Terrorist Act’’, Statement by the President, 4 October 2003,
hhttp://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2003/10/20031004-1.htmli (accessed 17 May
2004).
56. Quoted in Amir Oren, ‘‘Facing the Common Enemy’’, Haaretz, 30 July 2002,
hhttp://www.haaretzdaily.com/hasen/pages/ShArt.jhtml?itemNo=192149&contrassID=2
&subContrassID=4&sbSubContrassID=0&listSrc=Yi (accessed 17 May 2004).
57. John Gray, False Dawn: The Delusions of Global Capitalism (London: Granta Books,
2002), pp. 128–130.
58. Seymour Hersh, ‘‘Moving Targets’’, The New Yorker, 8 December 2003.
59. Sean Rayment, ‘‘US Tactics Condemned by British Officers’’, Daily Telegraph, 11 April
2004.
60. Quoted in Hersh, ‘‘Moving Targets’’, p. 4.
61. Quoted in Rayment, ‘‘US Tactics Condemned by British Officers’’.
516 TARAK BARKAWI
62. Quoted in Manfred Gerstenfeld, ‘‘The End of American Jewry’s Golden Era: An
Interview with Daniel Pipes’’, Campus Watch in the Media, 2 May 2004, hhttp://
www.campus-watch.org/article/id/1138i (accessed 15 May 2004).
63. Ibid.
64. Gray, False Dawn, p. 126.
65. Samet, ‘‘The Israelization of America’’. The Golani Infantry Brigade is an élite Israeli
unit and Tul Karm is a city and refugee camp on the West Bank.
66. Thomas Friedman, ‘‘Jews, Israel and America’’, International Herald Tribune, 25 Octo-
ber 2004, p. 8.
Part VI
Conclusion
31
Structural and normative challenges
James Cockayne and Cyrus Samii
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
(W. B. Yeats, The Second Coming, 1921)
Introduction
The Iraq crisis, which climaxed in the US-led invasion of 20 March 2003,
was by many reckonings evidence of a disintegration of the existing UN-
centred world order. This world order is the product of the formal insti-
tutions centred on the United Nations and the norms and perceptions
undergirding those institutions. Seen another way, it is the product of
the distribution of power enshrined in UN institutions and the actual dis-
tribution of capabilities supposedly justifying those institutional arrange-
ments. Basic elements of this order have been challenged by the crisis
over Iraq. The prohibition of aggression has been tested by the doctrine
of preventive military action. The international norm of state sovereignty
has been brought into question by efforts directed against the prolifera-
tion of weapons of mass destruction (WMD), non-state actors’ militancy
and human rights violations. The apparent incapacity of the United Na-
tions either to prevent or to manage the Iraq crisis raised questions about
519
520 JAMES COCKAYNE AND CYRUS SAMII
the organization’s continued utility, at least as it is currently constituted.

Institutional privileges such as permanent member status in the Security
Council are, by some reckonings, out of step with empirical realities. The
chapters in this volume helpfully bring together varying perspectives on
the causes and implications of the Iraq crisis in this tension-ridden con-
text. A question remains for the UN-centred international community:
quo vadis?
This concluding chapter addresses that question, focusing on implica-
tions for continued UN reform for dealing with international threats and
challenges in the twenty-first century. It is too soon to say definitively
whether the Iraq crisis was indicative of tectonic shifts in power and be-
liefs or if the crisis has itself triggered a lasting reconfiguration of world
political forces. Nonetheless, the manner in which the crisis unfolded
and the behaviours that it elicited have highlighted a number of impor-
tant trends in contemporary international relations. Grasping these
trends is a necessary precondition for effectively designing and reforming
institutions in the service of global collective action to promote peace and
security.
In the first section we discuss the nature of the disconnect between
world order and current realities as revealed by the Iraq crisis and as illu-
minated by the contributions to this volume. We then focus on structural
challenges, in particular on the challenges posed by both the United
States’ preponderance of power and the lack of inclusiveness in UN
decision-making. The third section focuses on normative challenges
posed by the disconnect between the norms enshrined by the United Na-
tions and perceptions in the world of legitimate responses to contempo-
rary threats. In the final section we draw out implications for UN reform.
Revealing the disconnect

‘‘World order’’, in this volume, refers to conventional and institutional-
ized patterns of behaviour in world politics.1 The structural aspects of
world order include the distribution of empirical and institutional power
within the world political system, and the political, social and economic
organization of the system. The normative aspects of world order are
the ideas and beliefs that undergird institutions and inspire the agents
within the system. Challenges within the context of world order arise
when the institutions of world politics become disconnected from em-
pirical realities, compelling agents to take action outside existing institu-
tions or to alter those institutions. Structural challenges arise, for ex-
ample, when the formal distribution of power within these institutions no
longer matches the empirical distribution of power in the world. Norma-
STRUCTURAL AND NORMATIVE CHALLENGES 521
tive challenges arise when the principles undergirding formal institutions

are disconnected from the beliefs and values that prevail in the world.
The Iraq crisis exposed a number of structural and normative challenges
to the notion of UN-centred world order. Some of these challenges, it
seems, can be resolved only with institutional reform. Other challenges
may be resolved through the reinforcement or re-articulation of existing
norms, or by the creation of new ones by ‘‘norm entrepreneurs’’.2
These ‘‘disconnects’’ are produced by both continuous trends and
occasional radical transformations, as the Iraq crisis has amply demon-
strated. Those emphasizing continuity point to ongoing UN intervention
and previous Western unilateralism in Iraq since 1980, for example in the
establishment of the no-fly zones.3 Other continuous factors were also
relevant, such as inflammation of militant Islamist sentiment owing to the
US troop presence in Saudi Arabia following the 1991 Gulf war.4 The
Iraq crisis and the resulting diplomatic and political fall-out were reminis-
cent of past episodes, most notably the 1999 Kosovo crisis. Finally, the
US–UK approach to the crisis could also be cast as a return to traditional
patterns of great power politics after a brief flirtation with institutionali-
zation immediately following the end of the Cold War.5
In contrast, one may read the Iraq crisis as either the cause or the ef-
fect of radical transformation. This view emphasizes the split between the
United States and ‘‘Old Europe’’, a precipitous rise of Islamic militancy,
and the consolidation of a global peace movement in the 15 February
2003 demonstrations.6 Finally, for some, the crisis was not ‘‘about’’ Iraq,
but simply and unfortunately played out in Iraq.7 Both readings are plau-
sible and both reveal the disconnect between the formal institutions of
world order and structural and normative realities.
Structural challenges
Current structural challenges arise from a number of sources.8 One
source is the disconnect between, on the one hand, US preponderance
and the emergence of new powers and, on the other hand, the anachro-
nistic distribution of institutional power within the UN Security Council.
Another source is the ‘‘Westphalian myth’’ underpinning the formal sov-
ereign equality of states upheld in institutions such as the UN General
Assembly, and the extreme empirical variation in capabilities of states.
These longstanding and increasing structural disconnects have set the
stage for more immediate challenges to the centrality of the United Na-
tions. The structural disconnects amplified the sense of disequilibrium
triggered by the US decision to take military action against Iraq in 2003
without renewed Security Council authorization.
The contributions to this volume describe a number of structural chal-

lenges arising from these disconnects, all of which have implications for
restoring the United Nations’ special place in the international system.
One challenge is immediately relevant to the UN reform process: chal-
lenges to the role of the UN Security Council as the central body in mul-
tilateral decision-making in security affairs. The Iraq crisis shook beliefs
in many corners of the world that the Security Council has truly been
entrenched as the primary decision-making body for global security con-
cerns in the post–Cold War era. Another challenge came to those leaders
facing the uncomfortable choice between supporting the agenda either
of the United Nations, with all of its apparent contradictions, or of the
United States, with risks of eroding already institutionalized global com-
mitments to democracy and human rights. As is discussed below, these
uncomfortable choices produced many ironic results. The way in which
leaders and policy entrepreneurs work to overcome these challenges has
important implications for North–South relations – another dimension of
the global politics surrounding the Iraq crisis that contributions to this
volume have highlighted.
The Security Council: Just another coalition?
Contributors to this volume seem to agree that the United States cannot
and does not pursue its security objectives alone, and that it must call on
the assistance of coalitions of other actors. Since there is a small group of
Northern states on which it calls most regularly, the resulting system
could be characterized as one of ‘‘uni-multipolarity’’9 or a ‘‘unipolar con-
cert’’.10 This view is presented as a corrective to the simplistic, although
often expressed, notion of the United States as an omnipotent hegemon.
The concert may best be understood as congruent with the G-8 or, after
its possible expansion, the G-10 (since the G-10 would include all of the
permanent five (P-5) members of the UN Security Council plus Japan,
Germany, Italy, Canada and India). The unipolar concert is not quite
identical with the Security Council, and serves as an alternative centre
of international security decision-making.
As a unipolar power, the United States has the ability to vary the
membership of the supporting cast on an issue-by-issue basis – the idea
of ‘‘coalitions of the willing’’. The Iraq crisis revealed that the UN Secu-
rity Council might be just one potential coalition among many for Wash-
ington. The United States is likely to use the Security Council only when
its legitimizing currency for some specific task far outweighs the conse-
quential procedural and political constraints, making it more appealing
than other coalitions. In such circumstances, the primacy of the Security
Council and the image of a UN-centred world order are illusory. On top
of legitimacy and procedural constraints, functional effectiveness serves

as another consideration for the United States. This combination of con-
siderations affecting US resort to the Security Council is consistent with
the concept of ‘‘effective multilateralism’’ that official US delegations
have invoked at major international conferences in recent years. All of
these considerations factor into the United States’ ‘‘coalition shopping’’
behaviour, even beyond the Security Council. NATO would seem to rep-
resent another substitute coalition in the area of post-conflict peace oper-
ations, at least in places where NATO members can agree on involve-
ment.11 This of course was not the case vis-à-vis Iraq, notwithstanding
NATO’s token role in training Iraqi security forces. This is an important
reason for UN reform efforts to think harder about the sources of Secu-
rity Council legitimacy and to focus on ways to protect and perhaps in-
crease that legitimacy. Security Council expansion may serve this func-
tion, contributing to holding the United States’ attention to the degree
that it increases the Council’s legitimizing currency without introducing
major procedural and political constraints.
The Iraq crisis made crystal clear the central danger of unipolarity for
a UN-centred multilateral system: the destabilization of an institution-
alized political system by the knowledge that, at any time, the unipolar
power may choose to look elsewhere for its supporting cast. The specific
challenge that the United Nations confronts is to find a path between
perceptions of irrelevance and complicity. The Security Council’s be-
grudging acceptance of the US-led occupation of Iraq in Resolution
1483, for example, exposed it to charges of complicity.12 The emergence
of alternative centres for decision-making on global security issues –
whether in the G-8/10 or in ad hoc groupings such as the Six-Party Talks
on North Korea or the Proliferation Security Initiative – exposes the
United Nations to charges of irrelevance in dealing with critical security
challenges.
Uncomfortable choices and ironic results
The Iraq crisis forced many leaders to face an uncomfortable question in

managing their relations with both the United States and the broader in-
ternational community: does a pro-UN position imply an anti-US posi-
tion, and does a pro-US position imply an anti-UN position? For Japan,
as Chiyuki Aoi and Yozo Yokota put it in their contribution to this
volume, ‘‘the Iraq war therefore challenged the untroubled, if not en-
tirely realistic, assumption of compatibility between three pillars of post-
war Japanese foreign policy: UN-centrism, alliance with the United
States and other Western powers, and friendly relations with Asian coun-
tries’’.13 Other country perspectives presented in this volume invariably
describe the choices that leaders faced as ‘‘uncomfortable’’ or ‘‘difficult’’.

Mónica Serrano and Paul Kenny make an interesting comparative point
by noting that the rest of the world was just getting a taste of what states
in the Western hemisphere have been forced to deal with all along. They
write, ‘‘Latin America . . . experienced the implications of a US-centric
world order before the rest of the late-twentieth-century world’’.14
The outcomes that these dilemmas produced were often ironic. Given
the intensity with which states typically pursue Security Council seats, for
example, it is noteworthy to read in the contributions to this volume that
Security Council members seemed to have been relieved that an ultimate
Security Council vote never came about. Serrano and Kenny point out
that, ‘‘within the bounds of the game, Mexico [which was on the Security
Council] was able to confront the United States without opposing it; Chile
[which was also on the Security Council] to oppose without confronting.
Both were finally happy to escape the consequences of a ‘No’ that really
meant what it said.’’15 In the absence of a vote, Russia could more easily
play a ‘‘wait and see’’ strategy. According to Ekaterina Stepanova in
Chapter 15 in this volume, this strategy rested on the optimistic belief
that the United States would eventually recognize the limits of its power
and then seek once again to play by the rules – albeit by slightly modified
rules.
Another irony is that the United Nations may have received increased
support in some corners as a result of the ‘‘with us or against us’’ choice
that the United States forced upon the international community. Jean-
Marc Coicaud in his chapter proposes that ‘‘radicalism brings about
political clarification’’ by forcing attention to concentrate on what is
really at stake and thus pushing actors to clarify their commitments.16 In
the crucible of the crisis, attention concentrated on the costs of a diminu-
tion of UN relevance, impelling some states to speak more clearly about
their commitments to multilateralism. Kenny and Serrano provide some
support for this view, pointing out that the Mexican leadership ended up
throwing its weight behind the United Nations, even though prior to the
Iraq crisis President Vicente Fox’s administration spoke of significant re-
forms needed for the United Nations to be credible. It is not abundantly
clear, however, that such reactionary support for the United Nations in-
dicates a real strengthening of its capacity to discharge its peace and se-
curity role, or whether in fact it amounts to a more desultory rearguard
action.
There were also complexities in the relationships between states’ inter-
national behaviour and the quality of their domestic democratic institu-
tions. In the United Kingdom, Prime Minister Blair had to face a largely
offended public in choosing to act outside the United Nations.17 Such
was also the case in Spain, Italy and, arguably, Poland, all states in which
democratic credentials are not in question. These results demonstrate

that democratic constraints on foreign policy decision-making are only
one side of the ‘‘two-level game’’ that leaders play in making foreign
policy decisions; indeed, opportunities and pressures in the international
system may be compelling even for those subject to domestic democratic
discipline. On the other hand, Hasan-Askari Rizvi (Chapter 19) proposes
that public opinion figured very prominently in President Pervez Mush-
arraf’s decision not to join the US-led coalition, even during the post-
invasion reconstruction phase. Amin Saikal (Chapter 11) finds similar re-
sults for many of the Arab states. In Germany, Chancellor Schröder
seized the chance to salvage his sliding re-election campaign through a
populist rejection of the US position.18
Another notable outcome was that the consensus that has been built in
regional organizations and identity-based international institutions hardly
featured in the crisis. As Fred Tanner argues in Chapter 20, NATO ‘‘did
not play any essential role’’ and the European Union was left divided and
inert. The German–US split was drawn into a broader European–US
split, and the unified Franco-German opposition to the US–UK axis
could be seen as the first real evidence of a genuinely ‘‘European’’ for-
eign policy. But, clearly, Europeans across the continent were not united
on this. Leaders from ‘‘new Europe’’ used the US-led war effort as an op-
portunity to redefine the post-expansion distribution of authority within
the European Union. Karawan, Saikal and Rizvi point out in Chapters
10, 11 and 19 that the Organization of the Islamic Conference was also
unable to present a common position. Thus, the crisis showed the limited
achievements of such consensus-building processes, at least in relation to
the United States and international security concerns.
Unipolarity and the North–South divide
As Ayoob and Zierler discuss in Chapter 3, a unipolar system can be dis-

tinguished from an imperial one. A unipolar power contends with sover-
eignty when trying to exert influence over other states, whereas an im-
perial power overrides sovereignty. But an automatic tension exists
between a unipolar power’s sense of privilege, derived from its prepon-
derant power and responsibility, and the other states’ sense of privileged
autonomy, derived from being part of a system based on the interna-
tional norm of state sovereignty. Just as unipolarity undermines UN-
centred world order, it may contribute to the hardening of the North–
South divide. This tension helps to explain the puzzling vitality of the
Non-Aligned Movement (NAM), despite the passing of a decade and a
half since the end of the Cold War.
The tensions across the North–South divide come not only from clash-
ing senses of privilege but also from divergence in security priorities.19

Lowering the bar to intervention – whether military or simply reform-
minded intervention – is a central concern. Thakur argues in Chapter 28
that ‘‘[i]n the real world today, the brutal truth is that our choice is not
between intervention and non-intervention. Rather, our choice is be-
tween ad hoc or rules-based, unilateral or multilateral, and consensual
or deeply divisive intervention.’’20 Nonetheless, in multilateral forums
such as the UN General Assembly, the global South has tended to see
any effort to make the United Nations more responsive to interventionist
impulses as a powerful threat to their interests.21 For the US leadership,
following the promulgation of its 2002 National Security Strategy, pre-
cisely the opposite is true. Such intervention is taken as a necessary
action to remove terrorist or WMD threats.
North–South tensions emanate from a sense that each group’s prior-
ities imply mutually exclusive policy choices drawing on finite institu-
tional resources in a zero-sum game. The commitment of exorbitant re-
sources and institutional attention to ‘‘hard security’’ crises such as Iraq
means lost opportunities for development efforts elsewhere. If the United
Nations complies with such prioritization, it may be seen as downgrading
part of its mission. At the same time, inclusion of the South’s develop-
mental concerns on the global agenda is sometimes characterized as dis-
tracting from the security concerns of the North. If the priority gap
widens between the United Nations and, for example, the United States
and the United Kingdom, then the United Nations is impaired in its abil-
ity to organize development assistance. Some have argued that develop-
ment should be understood as a path to security, in order to break this
zero-sum logic between Northern versus Southern priorities. The percep-
tion found favour in both the December 2004 report from the United
Nations’ High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, A More
Secure World, and the UN Millennium Project’s January 2005 report, In-
vesting in Development.22 The UN Secretary-General released a March
2005 follow-on report, In Larger Freedom, which aimed to combine the
findings from the two earlier reports into a common agenda for reform
and revitalization of the United Nations.23 However, the March 2005 re-
port hardly attempted to synthesize the findings of the two earlier re-
ports, instead offering a ‘‘package’’ of disparate institutional reform pro-
jects. This outcome reflects the difficulty in finding a way to move from
conciliatory rhetoric to convincing reforms marrying security and devel-
opment objectives.24
The capacities of the Security Council also require attention in relation
to North–South tensions. The 1990s have seen the Security Council take
on an increasingly legislative role – especially in Resolutions 687 (the
Iraq ceasefire), 1373 (the Counter-Terrorism Committee), 1422 (the first
of the ICC-exemption resolutions) and 1540 (criminalizing certain WMD

proliferation activities). Resentment of the ‘‘unelected 5’’, as some have
termed the permanent five members of the Security Council, will only
grow if such rule by legislative fiat is to continue. To prevent this, legisla-
tive resolutions would have to be subjected to stringent standards of de-
bate, transparency and accountability.25
Normative challenges
In relation to security concerns, normative challenges to UN-centred

world order arise from the disconnect between the norms enshrined by
the United Nations, particularly state sovereignty and non-aggression,
and the nature of contemporary threats.26 As is made clear in both Chap-
ters 27 and 28, the United States is not alone in sensing this disconnect,
which has been noted in relation not only to terrorism and WMD prolif-
eration but also to humanitarian crises. This disconnect may translate
into a gap between the legality and the legitimacy of some acts contribu-
ting to peace and security. This weakening of the link between legality
and legitimacy opens space for ‘‘norm entrepreneurs’’ to promote alter-
native visions of world order.27 As is discussed below, some of these al-
ternative visions present formidable challenges to the United Nations in
the organization’s claims to represent universal interests.
Legality vs. legitimacy
The Iraq crisis is only the most recent crisis provoking consideration of
the disconnect between responses to contemporary threats and the norms
enshrined by UN institutions.28 The Kosovo Commission, for example,
reflected much contemporaneous commentary in its assessment of
NATO’s 1999 Kosovo intervention as ‘‘illegal but legitimate’’.29 In this
volume, three interpretations of the US-led intervention in Iraq have
been presented. Ruth Wedgwood (Chapter 25) proposes that the inva-
sion was legal, through authorization by Security Council Resolutions
678, 687 and 1441, and legitimate, on the basis of security and humanitar-
ian imperatives. David Krieger (Chapter 23) disagrees, arguing that the
invasion was unlawful for not having garnered explicit Security Council
authorization, and illegitimate on the basis of norms of non-aggression
and the unsupportability of the claims of a threat. Charlotte Ku (Chapter
24) explores the implications of a hybrid view: that the intervention was
unlawful but perhaps legitimate.
Although the debate related to legality is likely to continue, a number
of possible dangers are associated with a legality/legitimacy gap.30 Ac-
cording to basic institutional and legal theory, by enshrining norms in

law, the costs and benefits of transgression are made more discernible.
By leaving legitimacy untethered to law, that discernibility is lost, raising
transaction costs, undermining cooperation and encouraging reliance on
self-help strategies. As the legitimacy of international law as a general
approach is eroded, so too are the legitimacy and effectiveness of all
those institutions it permits and sustains, from the United Nations to the
International Committee of the Red Cross. Saddam Hussein’s ability to
undermine the United Nations’ efforts to lay down the law certainly
weakened the binding force of those laws. But the same might be said of
the US-led coalition’s reliance on extra-legal claims of legitimacy. This
raises questions about whether this reliance on extra-legal legitimacy is
an exceptional case or whether it is indicative of a new pattern of inter-
national affairs. The suggestion emanating from the United States’
approach during the Iraq crisis and after, as many contributors propose
in their chapters, is an abandonment of a world order powered by rules
for a world order ruled by power.
The importance of the legality/legitimacy distinction in the Iraq case is
precisely that it comes as part of a growing perception among many that
the two are not identical at the international level. In the Middle East,
particularly with respect to the Arab–Israeli conflict, the loss of law’s le-
gitimacy is frequently linked to the perceived uneven enforcement of UN
Security Council resolutions. In the capitals of members of the US-led co-
alition, a problem is seen in how an outmoded international law protects
threatening tyrants but places a straitjacket on political reform by an
intervening/occupying power.31 This comes in addition to what Mark A.
Heller notes in Chapter 9 as ‘‘the absurdity of granting terrorists and
their state sponsors and apologists a seemingly legitimate role in the
elaboration, interpretation and enforcement of the law; in properly func-
tioning legal systems, they would be recused on grounds of clear conflict
of interest’’.32 Such concerns seem to have been reflected in the proposal
by Secretary-General Annan in his In Larger Freedom to do away with
the Human Rights Commission in favour of a more selective Human
Rights Council – a proposal that member states accepted at the Septem-
ber 2005 UN World Summit, but without agreeing any of the institutional
detail, wherein, no doubt, lurked many devils. In the eyes of civil society
activists, UN legitimacy suffers from the inconsistency between, on the
one hand, aspirations for enhancing democracy in global institutions
and, on the other hand, the United Nations’ dependence on international
law, which empowers states, not people directly. In the global South,
legitimacy is eroded as international law comes to be seen as the rule of
the few, for the few and by the few.
The Iraq crisis and norms of humanitarian protection
Three extra-legal claims were made by members of the US-led coalition

about the legitimacy of the invasion of Iraq: that it was a legitimate re-
sponse to (1) the imminent threat of WMD falling into the hands of ter-
rorists; (2) an imminent threat constituted by Iraq’s own possession of
WMD; and (3) the need for ‘‘humanitarian’’ protective intervention. Do-
mestic reviews in the United States and the United Kingdom showed that
the intelligence offered to coalition decision makers in the run-up to the
invasions provided only questionable support for the first two justifica-
tions.33 The WMD-based justifications were further undermined by the
US Iraq Survey Group’s discovery that Iraq was indeed not in possession
of deployable nuclear, chemical and biological weapons.
The ‘‘protective intervention’’ justification is not so easily dismissed on
evidentiary grounds, but suffers from the lack of consensus on the criteria
for such intervention. Nonetheless, in Chapter 28 on the relationship be-
tween the invasion and the doctrine of the ‘‘responsibility to protect’’,
Thakur neatly sums up a case against humanitarian justifications.34 For
Thakur, the Iraq war, as a humanitarian effort, fails to offer convincing
answers to the questions of ‘‘why Iraq?’’ and ‘‘why now?’’. In addition,
the scale of force used was incongruous to the scale of the humanitarian
crisis, and there was little to ensure that the suffering that justified the in-
vasion would end upon the invasion.
If humanitarianism cannot reasonably be argued to be amongst the co-
alition’s primary motives, then the (perhaps intentional) conflation of hu-
manitarianism and the Iraq war endangers the ongoing ‘‘responsibility to
protect’’ project. As Stepanova argues in Chapter 15, ‘‘such blatant viola-
tions of state sovereignty as this [the US intervention in Iraq] seriously
compromised the idea of intervening in a state’s internal affairs, even for
allegedly benign purposes’’.35 Wheeler and Morris (Chapter 27) provide
some of the reasons. First, they point to the possibility of increased cyni-
cism when humanitarian concerns are expressed in future crises, pointing
to Darfur as evidence of the realization of this effect. Second, that the
Iraq war pushed UN procedures to the sidelines may have raised fears
among states in the global South, particularly in the Arab world, that ex-
tra effort may be required to defend sovereignty, both within and outside
the United Nations. Third, the existence of the debate over the validity of
humanitarian protection as a justification for the Iraq war has split the
pre-Iraq humanitarian consensus, leaving factions arguing among them-
selves over this issue rather than acting collectively to push the normative
agenda forward. Finally, if the United States and the United Kingdom
have been discredited in invoking the norm of humanitarian protection,
then the norm has been decoupled from the two powers that are most ca-
pable of enforcing it.
Alternative visions
As Brian Job discusses in Chapter 4, the shift away from universalistic

legal procedures and the invocation of non-legal sources of legitimacy
open a space for ‘‘norm entrepreneurs’’ to propose alternative visions of
world order, ranging from the global peace movement to ‘‘neoconserva-
tive’’ hawks, and from ‘‘new liberal interventionists’’36 to Islamist mili-
tants. The future of multilateral institutions will be affected not only by
the structural challenges discussed above, but also by the efforts and
ideas of such norm entrepreneurs. A crucial challenge to the United Na-
tions is for it to serve as an adequate forum to contain such contests of
ideas. If it fails to do so, the legitimacy of UN resolutions and guidelines
can only erode. The Iraq crisis has brought to the fore competition be-
tween visions across two key cleavages, the first of which divides ‘‘the
West’’ and Islamist militants, and the second of which divides the trans-
atlantic community.
The competition of ideas between (non-state) Islamist militants and
‘‘the West’’ threatens to engulf the United Nations in a conflict that the
organization is ill designed to mediate. Karawan (Chapter 10) and Saikal
(Chapter 11) argue that Iraq became a focal point for Islamic jihad, sim-
ilar to the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan. These authors also empha-
size that much Islamist militancy is a product of widely held feelings
of disempowerment, disenfranchisement and alienation generated by
‘‘Western’’ political and cultural penetration into Muslim countries. The
lack of broad and visible agitation in the Middle East following the Iraq
crisis may only mean that the ‘‘Arab Street’’ has transformed into the
‘‘Arab Basement’’.37 As an institution serving the interests of the states
that are the expressed enemies of such militants, the United Nations is
poorly suited to serve as a venue for mediation in the confrontation be-
tween such militants and ‘‘the West’’. In addition, UN-based efforts such
as Security Council Resolution 1373 contribute to the sense of some that
the United Nations is an instrument of P-5 repression through the ‘‘war
on terror’’.38 What the United Nations could do is to steer likely recruits
away from militancy by linking their prospects to the objectives pro-
moted by the UN system. As the chapters by Saikal and Karawan sug-
gest, priority areas would include the Israeli–Palestinian conflict and en-
hancement of economic and political opportunities.
The contributions by Müller (Chapter 16), Martinez (Chapter 21) and
Coicaud et al. (Chapter 14) suggest that, beyond this divide between
Islamist militants and counter-terror minded states, another divide may
have opened within the United Nations over Iraq – a transatlantic divide
resulting from deep normative differences. To the extent that European
leaders were trying to manage the interests of their publics, as discussed
above, these leaders were constrained by a principled opposition to the
Iraq war that predominated throughout much of the continent. Martinez
proposes that, perhaps as a result of differences in media coverage on ei-
ther side of the Atlantic, Europeans on the whole exhibited more sensi-
tivity than Americans to the humanitarian tragedy that had been unfold-
ing in Iraq since the initiation of UN sanctions in the 1990s. Martinez
argues further that this sensitivity to the humanitarian toll and the devas-
tation of the country made it hard to imagine that the Iraqi regime could
be a threat, but made it easy to imagine that the regime was being se-
lected as an easy target. Martinez also argues that Europeans have
learned from the colonial experience that dominance is fleeting. What-
ever its causes, a divide in the transatlantic community has implications
for UN-centred world order that are significant, given that the members
of the transatlantic community (perhaps extended to include Japan) pro-
vide the bulk of the United Nations’ resources.
Implications for the United Nations: Revise or reverse?

Observers debate whether the Iraq crisis is indicative of a functioning or
dysfunctional United Nations. One could argue that the denial of explicit
Security Council authorization for the US-led invasion was a triumphant
moment for the United Nations, in which countries acted through the or-
ganization to deny legitimation to the acts of an aggressor (i.e. the United
States). Would the United Nations not be in a much worse position had
explicit authorization been granted on the basis of the supposed WMD
threat? For many, however, such arguments miss the point. As Krieger
argues in Chapter 23, ‘‘[i]f it was a triumphant moment, it was certainly
a hollow one’’.39
The United Nations’ own leadership clearly took the latter message. An
immediate consequence of the Iraq crisis was that UN Secretary-General
Kofi Annan decided in late 2003 to initiate a process of reform by com-
missioning a High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change. The
process was initiated in his speech to the UN General Assembly on 23
September 2003, in which he stated:
[I]t is not enough to denounce unilateralism, unless we also face up squarely to

the concerns that make some States feel uniquely vulnerable, since it is those con-
cerns that drive them to take unilateral action. We must show that those concerns
can, and will, be addressed effectively through collective action.40
The ensuing process attempted to find a number of institutional solutions

to many of the structural and normative challenges to the United Nations’
central role in world order. But the immediate results, from the 2005
World Summit, fell far short of hopes, perhaps compounding the sense
of deep institutional crisis triggered by Iraq. Thus much work remains to
be done. As the discussion above suggests, the changes demanded relate
to the need not only to make the United Nations more inclusive or to
realign the structures to more closely match the global distribution of
power, but also to improve the United Nations’ performance relative to
its stated principles and objectives. The list of complaints is long and in
some places possibly even contradictory. In assessing reform options, a
key underlying question is this: to revise or to reverse?
The ‘‘revise’’ approach would be to increase UN capacity so that it can
better perform the broad range of tasks that have slowly accrued in its
domain of responsibility. Proposals for improving UN performance have
ranged from the addition of new permanent or long-term Security Coun-
cil seats, to the creation of new bodies to handle tasks such as peacebuild-
ing and transitional administration, to even greater emphasis on ‘‘soft se-
curity’’ issues such as poverty and disease. This may involve cutting away
some of the non-performing bodies – and not only the Commission on
Human Rights. But the basic sense is to accept the broadened domain of
responsibility and to build up institutions accordingly.
The ‘‘reverse’’ approach treats such broadened responsibilities with
scepticism, especially as aroused by the United Nations’ efforts vis-à-vis
Iraq. In a study on the performance of international organizations, Mi-
chael Barnett and Martha Finnemore have made a remarkable discovery:
following failures, international organizations tend, more often than not,
to expand rather than cut back on their personnel and on the range of
tasks that they take on.41 It is clear that the United Nations’ reform
agenda following the Iraq crisis has stayed true to that tendency. None-
theless, problems such as those associated with the Oil-for-Food pro-
gramme raise the issue of whether the Secretariat and the Security Coun-
cil are well suited to such complex operations. Despite the veneer of
bureaucratization, do the politics inherent in all UN operations allow for
a proper execution of all of the tasks it is asked to perform? A ‘‘reversal’’
approach to UN reform would advocate that the Security Council should,
instead, stick to what it has traditionally been good at: brokering peace
accords and facilitating the consolidation of peace where there is peace
to be consolidated. Any reform need not be uniform: the United Nations
might reverse in some areas and on some issues, and revise in others. Ac-
cording to this view, however, the United Nations should not be assumed
to hold the cure for all the world’s ills, and attempts at reform must be
realistic about what the United Nations can and cannot achieve.
Notes
1. Throughout this chapter, by ‘‘institutions’’ we refer to rules purposively assigned to pro-

duce particular patterns of behaviour. Institutionalization is one such purposive assign-
ment of rules.
2. See Chapter 4 in this volume. Ramesh Thakur and Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu provide
arguments for the desirability of a UN-centred world order in their introduction to this
volume.
3. See David Malone and James Cockayne’s introductory historical chapter in this volume
(Chapter 2).
4. Ibid.
5. These facts lead Charlotte Ku to pose a poignant question at the start of Chapter 24 in
this volume: ‘‘[W]hy did the war in Iraq cause such concern when neither the exertion of
power nor the sidestepping of the UN Security Council is new?’’ (p. 397).
6. See Chapters 5, 11, 14 and 21.
7. See Chapters 9, 11 and 16.
8. These structural challenges are discussed in more detail in Ramesh Thakur’s introduc-
tion to the second volume of this series. See Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu and Ramesh
Thakur, eds, Arms Control after Iraq (Tokyo: United Nations University Press, forth-
coming).
9. See Chapter 9.
10. See Chapter 3.
11. See Chapter 20.
12. It should also be noted that Resolution 1483 highlighted the instrumental approach
toward the Security Council of other permanent members – particularly France and
Russia, which appeared to support the resolution in hopes of re-entering the Iraqi oil
market.
13. Chapter 17, pp. 284–285 in the present volume.
14. Chapter 18, p. 299 in the present volume.
15. Ibid., p. 312.
17. See Chapter 13.
18. For a discussion of the principles behind the German public’s rejection of the US-led
war effort, see Chapter 16.
19. Hasmy Agam, ‘‘Iraq and the Issue of Global Governance: A Perspective from the Non-
Aligned Movement’’, paper presented at the workshop on ‘‘The Iraq Crisis and World
Order: Structural and Normative Challenges’’, organized by the International Peace
Academy and United Nations University, and hosted by King Prajadhipok’s Institute,
Bangkok, 16–18 August 2004.
21. Such has been the basis of NAM’s apprehensive response toward UN policy agendas
associated with ‘‘conflict prevention’’ and ‘‘the responsibility to protect’’ (see note 34
below). Some ground was conceded in the adoption of ‘‘responsibility to protect’’ lan-
guage in the September 2005 UN World Summit Outcome document (UN Doc. A/60/
L.1, New York: United Nations General Assembly, 2005). However, no specific mecha-
nisms were outlined for intervention if the Security Council fails to act. The final say on
international intervention was thus entrusted to two P-5 members traditionally protec-
tive of sovereignty – China and Russia.
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges and Change, UN Doc. A/59/565 (New York:
United Nations, 2004); and United Nations Millennium Project, Investing in Develop-
ment: A Practical Plan to Achieve the Millennium Development Goals (London: Earth-
scan, 2005).
23. In Larger Freedom: Towards Security, Development and Human Rights for All. Report of
the Secretary-General, UN Doc. A/59/2005 (New York: United Nations, 2005).
24. The one exception might be with respect to peacebuilding.
25. One option might be for such legislative resolutions to first be debated in or even ap-
proved by the General Assembly.
26. See Chapter 1 in Sidhu and Thakur, eds, Arms Control after Iraq.
27. See Chapter 4.
28. See Chapter 24 for further discussion of this point.
29. Independent International Commission on Kosovo, The Kosovo Report: Conflict, Inter-
national Response, Lessons Learned (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001).
30. The 2005 UN World Summit Outcome document affirmed that ‘‘the relevant provisions
of the Charter are sufficient to address the full range of threats to international peace
and security’’ (para. 79). In other words, no new international consensus was reached
on the legal interpretation of the United States’ invasion of Iraq.
31. See Chapter 29.
33. See the conclusions in the Commission on the Intelligence Capabilities of the United
States Regarding Weapons of Mass Destruction, Report to the President of the United
States, March 31, 2005 (Washington, DC: United States Government Printing Office,
2005).
34. Refer to Chapter 28 for background on the international project initiated by the Inter-
national Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty to garner commitment to a
normative doctrine of ‘‘the responsibility to protect’’.
35. Chapter 15, pp. 252–253 in the present volume.
36. Wheeler and Morris in Chapter 27.
37. Thomas Friedman, ‘‘Under the Arab Street’’, New York Times, 23 October 2002, p. A23.
38. Such was the nature of the indictment of the United Nations made by Osama bin Laden
in his address broadcast on Al Jazeera on 3 November 2001 in the wake of the invasion
of Afghanistan.
40. UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan’s Address to the 57th Session of the UN General
Assembly, New York, 23 September 2003. United Nations Press Release SG/SM/8891,
GA/10157, 24 September 2003.
41. Michael Barnett and Martha Finnemore, Rules for the World: International Organiza-
tions and World Politics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004).
Index
Advertising Democracy
anti-war movement 86 consociational democracy in Lebanon,
Afghanistan see Lebanon
elections 128 ‘‘domino effect’’ 420
NATO peacebuilding in 333 NATO promotion of 335–337
Turkish involvement in reconstruction transition to in Iraq, see Iraq
128
United Kingdom and 226 E-mail networks
al-Qaeda and global movement against Iraq war
financial sanctions and travel restrictions 79
on 209 Egypt
Arab League challenges to UN role 178–182
reactions to Iraq war 189–192 Afghanistan conflict and 180
Egyptian analysts on 178–179
Beslan school attacks 209–210 future of world governance and
179–180
Chile, see Latin America viability and effectiveness of United
Concert of the North Atlantic 51 Nations 179
cavalier use of power by 52 demise of Arab order 182–183
Counter-Terrorism Committee lack of alternatives to US military
establishment of 209 action 182
role 209 Egyptian state strategies 183–185
Crisis management arrest of political activists 184
NATO and 337–338 call for Arab summit 184
protests against US action in Iraq
Darfur 183–184
international community failure in 158 and Iraq war 175–186
Debellatio, doctrine of 183 balancing act of Egyptian regime 181
535
536 INDEX
Egypt (cont.) regions where influence sought 235

Egyptian policy options during French foreign policy decision-making
175–176 process 236–237
Iraq as haven for terrorists 180–181 demilitarized foreign policy 237
as manifestation of restructuring of French constitution 236
international system 175 implementation of 237
spillover effects 181–182 president, powers of 236–237
US-dominated world order and 176–178 range of actors 237
positions of states in conflict areas opposition to Iraq war, reasons for
177–178 234–248
reversal of strategic realities 176–177 assessment of threat 242–243
role of regional actors 177 lack of evidence of WMD 239
Elections France’s support to Iraq 240–241
in Iraq 129 French reticence about change 244
impact of 436–437 future prospects 243–245
Epstein, Barbara interpretation of Resolution 1441 239
on global movement against war in Iraq lack of credible alternative 243–244
75 no automatic recourse to force 238
European Union refusal to deploy troops post-war 245
9/11, effect on 344–345 two-stage UN process proposal 238
‘‘We Are All Americans’’ 345 and use of force in Middle East 242
and Iraq war 344–356 vision of multipolar world 241
definition of Middle East policy 344
European resistance to, reasons for Germany
346 and Iraq war 267–270
‘‘illegitimate war’’ 347–348 9/11 and 268
suffering of Iraqi people 346–347 imposing democracy 277
future prospects 351–354 international law and organizations
construction of political peace plan 268
354 as ‘‘Proud Tower’’ illusion 269
departure of coalition forces 353 and world order 267–268
maintaining coalition 352–353 perspective on Iraq war 266–267
guerrilla war following 349 Germany as a civilian power 266
humanitarian concerns 349–350 German peacekeeping 267
proof of US failure 348–350 and world order 270–276
reconstruction of Iraq 349 globalization and fragmentation
refugees 350 274–276
resistance to US occupation 350–351 globalization and interdependence
international resistance groups 351 272–273
Shiite resistance groups 351 hegemonic order 276
Sunni resistance groups 350–351 imposition of democracy 277
sabotage of oil pipelines 349 meaning of world order 271–272
US justification for 345 military power, use of 278
Monitoring, Verification and
France Inspection Commission 270–271
essentials of French foreign policy power measured by resources 277
235–236 requirements for global order 272–276
commitment to multilateralism 236 Security Council 270–271
international projection of influence United Nations 270–271
235 Global movement against war in Iraq
primacy of national interest 235 75–91
INDEX 537
15 February 2003 protests 75 Humanitarian intervention

actors 76 Iraq war as, see Iraq war
Barbara Epstein on 75 meaning 467
impacts 86
on Bush administration 88 ‘‘India Shining’’
emphasis of threat from Iraqi WMD rejection by Indian electorate 53
88–89 Interim Constitution for Iraq 105
Security Council rebuff to United International institutions and institutional
States 87 change 59–62
international coordination 75 ‘‘big bang’’ theory of great events 60–61
international dimension 79–84 and changes in US leadership 61
15 February 2003 protests 80 formation of institutions: two perspectives
censure of Australian Prime Minister 59–60
83 Ikenberry on 59
German national elections 82 institutional change in the aftermath of
international anti-war opinion (table) ‘‘great events’’ 60–61
81 ‘‘institutional compact’’ 60
opinion polls 80 interests of dominant states 60
Pakistani elections 83 norm entrepreneurs 61–62
political impact of demonstrations ‘‘bucking the system’’ 61
80–81 ‘‘social constructions’’ 59–60
religious opposition 81 International law
significance of anti-war sentiment for Iraq war as defining moment for 393
US policy 83–84 Iraq war as step backward for 394
South Korean elections 83 multinational action in Iraq and 413–425
Turkish rejection of US request for 1990 invasion of Kuwait 415
transit corridor 82–83 1991 Resolutions 414
and Internet 76 blocking of Security Council action
interplay with United Nations 87 419
media communications 84–86 casus belli 415
advertising 86 ‘‘domino effect’’ of democracy 420
media coverage of 15 February economic sanctions against Iraq 416
demonstrations 85 French and Russian criticisms of
message framing 85 sanctions 417
power and influence of media 84 Iraq Survey Group results 423
Win Without War 85 Iraqi democracy 420
MoveOn, role of 78–79 Iraqi weapons disposal 417
‘‘action in a box’’ 79 justifications for war 414
e-mail networks 79 limitations on Iraq’s military capacity
impact of Internet on 78 416
Internet organizing 78–79 non-state actors’ use of WMD 418
online membership 78 Oil-for-Food scandal 423
as ‘‘superpower’’ 76 ongoing insurgency 413
in United States post-war assessments of weapons
on Human Rights Day 77 programmes 422
two major coalitions 77 preference for multilateral response
virtual organizing 77–78 421–422
Win Without War coalition 77 UN High-level Panel on Threats,
Challenges and Change, impact of
Hariri, Rafiq 421
assassination of 109 unlawful production of WMD 418–419
538 INDEX
International law (cont.) support for United States 139

urban insurgency 420 sympathy from civil society 140
weapons inspections 419 Tehran and Washington, relationship
reform of 170 between 141
US immunity from 390 1979 Islamic revolution 134
International order assessment of Iraq crisis 134–160
future prospects after Iraq war 437–441 drive towards regional supremacy 135
need to adjust US foreign policy geography of 135
439–440 role in foreign policy 135
reconciling power and principles 438 as important regional player 134
impact of US Iraq policy on 434–437 Iraq crisis 142–151
impact of Iraqi elections 436–437 Afghanistan and 149
negative impacts 435–436 arms-length position 150–151
positive impacts 434–435 consequences for Iran 143
International peace and security and state effect of on factional rivalries in Iran
sovereignty 57–74 145
contesting norms 57–74 geo-economic consequences 151
global public goods dilemma 71–72 inter-Shia politics 146–147
‘‘institutional bargain’’ 58 Iranian domestic politics and 147–148
instrumental materialism 71 Iranian influence in Iraq 144
norm entrepreneurs 57–74 Iranian issues with 149
United Nations, role of 58 Iranian security thinking 151
uncertain future 70–72 as mixed blessing for Tehran 143
and United Nations, see United Nations political voice of Iraq’s Shiite
United States: leading state and norm community 147
entrepreneur 66–70 Qum–Tehran–Najaf relationship 146
attack on US homeland 2001 67–68 regime change in Iraq 142–143
Bush, George W., election of 67 relations with Gulf Cooperation
Cold War, end of 67 Council and 146
and Iraq war 67 security as prime driver 148–151
multilateralism, principles of 68–69 Supreme Council for Islamic
and NATO 68 Revolution in Iraq 149–150
structural logic of US systemic war and its aftermath 143–146
dominance 66–68 Washington’s intentions towards Iran
United States as norm entrepreneur 144
68–70 ‘‘negative balance’’ doctrine 135
United States: prospects for change and nuclear programme 152–156
continuity 70–72 and balance of power between Iranian
United States, role of 58 factions 156–157
International security changes in West Asia and 157–158
social logic of, see Social logic of ‘‘dual containment’’, doctrine of 152
international security EU ‘‘constructive engagement’’
Internet dialogue 153
and Iraq war protests 76; see also Global flexible acquisition strategy 154
movement against war in Iraq geopolitical insecurity paradigm
Iran 155–156
9/11 and 139–142 IAEA and 154
Ayatollah Mohammad Emami-Kashani Iranian admission of weapons
on 139–140 programmes 153–154
Iranian response to Iraq war 141–142 national resources 156
national press on 140 national security and 152–156
INDEX 539
prestige of being nuclear state 155 multi-party system 103

rights of signatories to NPT 155 pluralist state, Iraq as 103
Russia on 153 political culture 106
territorial nationalist debates 156 political divisions 103
United States’ ability to act 152 power-sharing arrangement 105
US position on 157 restructuring of social and political
post-9/11 international order and structure 106
151–158 and social reform in greater Middle
national security and nuclear East 104
programme 152–156 Iraq Survey Group
post–Cold War regional politics 137–139 results of 423
‘‘both North and South’’ 138–139 Iraq war
‘‘three Gs’’ in foreign relations 137 accountability, need for 389–390
views of new international system immunity from international law 390
137–138 international people’s tribunals 389
as rational actor 134 US ‘‘unsigning’’ of ICC treaty 390
religious dimension to projection of case for 96, 397–412
power 136 adequacy of multilateral institutions
Soviet relations during Cold War 136 409
support for Islamic groups 136 adequacy of UN security system 405
Turkish rapprochement with 121–122 Anne-Marie Slaughter on 398
Iraq Attorney Generals’ opinions 401
challenge to world order 3–15 closed societies developing WMD 407
Coalition Provisional Authority 129, 349, ‘‘duty to prevent’’ 406
361, 479, 489, 492 establishing legitimacy 404–408
elections 129 evidence for pre-emptive wars
formation of independent government 407–408
129–130 Kofi Annan on 398
interim constitution 129 need for Security Council authorization
problems in drafting 129 402
Iraqi Interim Government, establishment power, legality and legitimacy,
of 128–129 importance of 397
occupation of, see Occupation of Iraq precedent for future actions, Iraq as
as a political earthquake 11–13 398
aims of Bush administration 12–13 ‘‘regime change’’, legality 401
political system post-war 102 resolutions authorize use of force,
reasons for US use of military power whether 403
against 317–320 Security Council, role of 400–404
9/11 attacks 318 standards for legitimate action 406
invasion of Kuwait 319 and UN failure to act in Rwanda 405
US security measures 318 unregulated intervention 405
sectarian fighting 128 US rejection of international
as testing ground for US foreign policy agreements 397–398
assumptions 432–437 ‘‘who can decide to act’’ 402
transition to democracy in 102–106 costs of 388–389
armed resistance to occupation 104 deaths of Iraqi citizens 388
challenges to 104–105 implications for world order 389
federalism 105 as defining moment for international law
form of democracy 102–103 393
Interim Constitution 105 failure to find WMD 97–98
leadership 106 other justifications for war after 102
540 INDEX
Iraq war (cont.) use of ‘‘collective action’’ 447

global movement against, see Global when to intervene 456
movement against war in Iraq illegality of 383–386
as humanitarian intervention 444–463 authorization for use of force 384
abuse of humanitarian claims over Iraq ‘‘final opportunity to comply with
448–454 disarmament regulations’’ 385
Australian government 448–449 Iraq’s failure to disarm 384
declaratory commitment to protect no attack on United States 384
strangers in peril 460 terms of 1991 ceasefire 385
developing norm of military UN Charter 383
intervention for humanitarian illegitimacy of 386–388
protection 446–448 and dangers of WMD 386
and failure to find WMD 448 Hans Blix on 387
failure to respond in Darfur 457–458 presence of WMD as justification 387
impact of Iraq war on developing norm state and non-state actors, distinction
of humanitarian intervention 387–388
459–460 implications of 211–212, 315–317
Iraq better place as result of America, role of 211
intervention, whether 450–451 ‘‘pre-emptive military action’’ 316
justifying 455–458 inevitable, whether 9–11
as last resort 455 United Nations, role of 10–11
legal basis for 455 international law and, see International
legality of humanitarian intervention law
454 international system after 161–162
legitimizing action in absence of constraints on US power 163–166
Security Council authorization need for partners 163–166
456 United States in 162–163
liberal internationalists 444 invasion of Iraq 97
link between motivations and outcomes legitimacy of 381–396
451 al-Qaeda links with Iraq 382
military conduct of intervention 452 discredited justifications 382
moral case for removing Saddam ‘‘victor’s justice’’ 383
Hussein 452 ‘‘war of choice’’ 381
motivations to deploy troops 449–450 WMD 381
narrow threshold principles, reasons manner of fighting 488
for 455–456 as model for controlling WMD 393–394
new liberal interventionists 444 need for UN action 392
non-intervention principle of Cold War reactions in Muslim world to 187–200
446 almost universal opposition 187
policing 451–452 Arab League 189–192
positive humanitarian outcome, élite attitudes 188–189
whether 450 élites’ private positions 192–193
protection of civilians 447–448 moderate Islamists 195–196
removal of other tyrannical regimes neo-fundamentalists 198
457 Organization of the Islamic Conference
Security Council powers 446 189–192
Tony Blair on 453 popular sentiment 193–199
trespassing on sovereignty of others destruction of Iraqi state 193–194
447 opposition to Saddam Hussein 193
UK government 449 US application of disproportionate
unilateral action 447 force 194
INDEX 541
US attempts to influence democratic and world order 519–520

processes 194 Islamism
US support for Saddam Hussein reactions to Iraq war
pre-1991 193 moderate Islamists 195–196
radical Islamists 196–198 neo-fundamentalists 198
radical secular nationalists 198–199 radical Islamists 196–198
US post-war management of Iraq rise of in Turkey 120–121
194–195 Israel
variety of views 187–188 Israeli perspective on Iraq crisis 161–174
reasons for, see Iraq war, case for communism and 171–172
responsibility to protect and 464–478 international system after Iraq war
abuse of Iraqi prisoners 468 161–162
British annexation of Awadh 469 Iraqi WMD 173
changing demands, expectations and Israel’s margin of manoeuvre 173
tools 476–478 Israel’s need for partners 171
complicity 465–467 need for close relationship with United
doctrine of sovereign equality 470 States 172
due process 474–476 previous conflicts with Iraq 172
follow-up assistance 472 United States and, see United States and
functional commitment to sovereignty Israel
470–471
government criminal behaviour 464 Japan
humanitarian intervention, meaning and Iraq war 282–297
467 ‘‘coming to terms with the past’’ 295
illegality 465–467 concern for bilateral relations with
international criminal behaviour 464 United States 294
military intervention for human Japanese Self Defense Forces, use of
protection purposes 467–468 282
neo-colonial rule, humanitarian long-term implications 282–283
intervention as 469 support for United States 282
paralysis 465–467 Japanese Self Defense Forces (JSDF)
political considerations 468 operation in Iraq 287–294
precautionary principles 473–474 9/11, effect of 291
provision of life-supporting protection activism in bilateral defence 291
471–472 Anti-Terrorism Special Measures Law
responsibility to prevent conflict 472 292
‘‘responsibility to protect’’ of every ban on ‘‘core’’ activities 289
state 465 collective self-defence 288
right authority 474–476 deployment in Indian Ocean 291
sovereignty as responsibility 470–471 five conditions for Japanese
threshold criteria 473–474 participation 289–290
triple policy dilemma, summary 466 hostage-taking of Japanese nationals
and social logic of international security, 294
see Social logic of international International Peace Cooperation Law
security 289
as step backward for international law involvement in Afghanistan 291
394 and legal status of Iraq war 293
weapons inspections 96 legislation for 292
and weapons of mass destruction legitimacy of humanitarian intervention
390–392; see also Weapons of 290
mass destruction limits of 287
542 INDEX
Japan (cont.) consent to 299

mandate 293 democratization 299–300
public opinion 294 effect of 9/11 300
resistance to ‘‘enforcement’’ 288 Mexico 300
rules concerning ‘‘use of weapons’’ 290 implications of US-centric world 299
significance of 287 and Iraq war 301
UN peacekeeping 288–289 Mexico and Chile membership of
‘‘within’’ multinational force, Security Council 2003 301
significance 293 Plan Colombia 301
responses to Iraq war 284–294 powerlessness of Latin America 298
diplomatic support 284–286 US order in Latin American perspective
foreign policy dilemma 284–285 302–305
justification for support 285 domestic opinion 304
public opinion 285–286 Latin American opposition to US
supporting post-conflict stabilization in intervention 302–303
Iraq 286–287 Latin American security measures
303
Khan, A.Q. Latin American terrorism 303
and dissemination of nuclear material 53 preventive use of force 302
Krasner, Stephen resistance to United States 303–304
on North–South relationship 38 responsiveness of allies to security
Kurds concerns 303
future in northern Iraq 118–120 significance of Iraq 304
US military interventions 302
Latin America League of Nations
Chile 308–310 rejection by United States 6–7
free trade agreement with United Lebanon
States 309 Cedar Revolution 109
and Iraq 309 consociational democracy in 106–107
multilateralism 308–309 composition of society 106–107
powerlessness of 309 power-sharing practices 107
prominence of 308 social structure 107
proposal for extended weapons stability of political system 107
inspections 310 impact of Iraq crisis on 108–111
public opinion 309 Lebanese perspective on Iraq war
tradition of respect for international 95–113
law 308 distrust of US motives 97
Mexico 305–308 public opinion 97
foreign minister, role of 307 Syria’s legacy in 108–111
non-intervention, principle of 306 assassination of Rafiq Hariri 109
as non-permanent member of Security Cedar Revolution 109
Council 305 consequences of Hariri assassination
opinion polls 307 109–110
peaceful resolution of conflicts, developments following withdrawal of
principle of 306 Syrian troops 110
‘‘revolt of the Latins’’ 306 Fitzgerald fact-finding mission
transition to democracy 305 recommendations 110
US threats 307 relations between Syria and Lebanon
‘‘wait and see’’ policy 308 108
US hegemony and 298–301 revitalized political system 110–111
INDEX 543
Syrian intervention in Lebanese National security

communal conflict 108 versus multilateralism and solidarity
Syrian withdrawal from Lebanon 427–431
108–109 North Atlantic Treaty Organization
(NATO)
Media communications and 9/11 attacks 330–331
anti-war movement’s use of, see Global during Cold War 329–330
movement against war in Iraq ‘‘common strategy’’ 331
Mexico, see Latin America crisis management 331, 337–338
Middle East democracy, promotion of 335–337
building coalition on 166–169 effectiveness in 21st century 338–340
assistance made contingent on capabilities 338–340
compliance with donor-defined institutional interoperability 338–340
criteria 168–169 and European priorities 329
difficulties securing international fight against terrorism and WMD
cooperation 166 334–335
difficulties for United States in asymmetrical threats 335
promoting 167 limited capabilities for 334
European perspective 167 ‘‘Partnership Action Plan against
need for 166 Terrorism’’ 334
purpose of 167 spread of WMD 335
sanctions 168 and Iraq 329–332
building democracy and stability in ‘‘spectre of irrelevance’’ 329–332
125–130 transatlantic dispute 331–332
broader Middle East initiative, Turkey’s request for assistance 332
legitimacy of 125–127 key institutional partnership 340
European regional order as model for Kosovo intervention 330
124–125 new functions 341
Military occupation, law of 481–484 new ‘‘threats agenda’’ 332
acquisition of territory through military peace operations 337–338
force 481–482 reduced role of 330
administration of occupied territory 481 role in Iraq war 328
debellatio, doctrine of 483 role in US-centric world order 340–341
formal obligations 482 shared strategic vision, search for
jus ad bellum 483 333–334
separation from jus in bello 483 peacebuilding in Afghanistan 333
limitations on occupying power 483–484 regions of special focus 333
prohibitions on use of force 483 ‘‘roles and missions’’ 333
reluctance to acknowledge position as ‘‘soft power’’ projection 335–337
occupier 482 and US priorities 329
underlying premise of occupation 482 United States–Europe split 330
MoveOn North versus South: economics 47–48
role in global movement against Iraq war FDI flows 48
78–79 skewed nature of globalization 48
Multilateralism and unipolarity: artificial North versus South: politics and security
contradiction 45–47 48–51
capital mobility 47–48 Military Technological Revolution 49–50
Concert of industrialized states 47 Revolution in Military Affairs 49–50
Concert of the North Atlantic 46 and self-interest 49–50
‘‘end of the West’’ 45–46 and sovereignty 49
544 INDEX
Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty Russia

‘‘loophole’’ in 391 framework for policy on Iraq 251–254
Nye, Joseph ‘‘axis of peace’’ 252
on structure and process in the ‘‘axis of war’’ 252
international system 40–41 geo-economics, role of 254
normalization of foreign policy 251
Occupation of Iraq 486–490 ‘‘oil and gas factor’’ 254
manner in which war fought 488 preference for multilateral approach
obligations of occupiers 489 253
political function for United Nations 487 two levels 253–254
‘‘political future’’ 489 UN reform 252
post-conflict scenarios 487 US refusal to work within international
UN planning for 488–489 framework 252–253
UN recognition of Coalition Provisional international security agenda 249
Authority 489 post–Cold War ‘‘damage limitation’’
UN responsibilities 489–490 249
US leadership of 487 and Iraq war
Oil-for-Food scandal 423 as landmark development 250
Operation Desert Storm 7 and Iraq and ‘‘war on terrorism’’
Organization of the Islamic Conference 258–262
(OIC) actors capable of ‘‘winning the peace’’
reactions to Iraq war 189–192 261
anti-terrorism priorities 259
Pakistan central role of United States 262
and Iraq war 320–326 long-term anti-terrorism strategy
absence of diplomatic support 324 260–261
comparison of Pakistan to Iraq 323 ‘‘post-post–Cold War’’ world order
difficulties for Pakistan 320 261
divisions within the OIC 321 range of threats 260
expansion of US goals 322 Russian place in world order 262
main issues for Pakistan 321 terrorism generated by Iraq conflict
membership of Security Council 320 259
‘‘multipolar’’ system 324–325 policy scenarios on post-war Iraq
pre-emptive strikes 323 254–258
public opinion 321 accommodating steps towards coalition
refusal to send troops 322 powers 257
UN authorization, lack of 321–322 accommodation scenario 254
unilateralism 323 compromise scenario 257–258
Peace operations deteriorating security situation 256
and NATO 337–338 geo-economics and 256
Precautionary principle 473–474 ‘‘global order’’ concerns 257
Pre-emptive war, doctrine of 99 modification of accommodation
as tool for combating terrorism 99 scenario 255
non-association scenario 254
Regime change opinion polls 258
legality of principle 401 post-war interim political governance
Responsibility to protect arrangements 256–257
and Iraq war, see Iraq war post-war reconstruction 255
Revolution in Military Affairs (RMA) pace of 255–256
49–50 war on terrorism, effect of 250
INDEX 545
Rwanda perceived uneven enforcement of UN

UN failure to act in 405 Security Council resolutions 528
relations with United States 523–524
Self-defence revealing the disconnect 520–521
meaning 206 structural challenges 521–523
September 11th unipolarity 525–527
Iranian perspective, 139–142; see also ‘‘Westphalian myth’’ 521
Iran Structure and process in international
and United Nations, see United Nations system 40–41
US multilateralism ‘‘de circonstance’’ Joseph Nye on 40
after 430 Syria
Social logic of international security legacy in Lebanon, see Lebanon
426–443 Turkish rapprochement with 121–122
Bush’s foreign policy 427–429
doctrinal sidelining of multilateralism Terrorism
428–429 definition 204
and theory of US power 427–429 pre-emptive war as tool for combating 99
future prospects for international order problems defining 207
437–441 rise in Turkey 120–121
geopolitics of US national interest root causes of 164
429–431 Turkey
impact of US foreign policy on building democracy and stability in
international order, see Middle East 125–130
International order and Afghanistan elections 128
Iraq as testing ground for US foreign Arab-Israeli peace process 126
policy assumptions 432–437 imposition of nation-building 128
assumptions vindicated by war 432 Islam and secular nationalism,
foreign policy at odds with reality relationship between 127
432–433 military, role in politics 127
Iraq war and 426–443 political culture of region 126–127
national security vs. multilateralism and protection of secularism 127
solidarity 427–431 relationship between Islam and
Soft power nation-state-building 127
NATO projection of 335–337 Turkey’s position 126
Sovereign equality Turkish experience in nation-building
doctrine of 470 127–130
Structural and normative challenges Turkish involvement in reconstruction
519–534 of Afghanistan 128
alternative visions 530–531 divergence of interests from Washington
competition of ideas 530–531 118–122
Kosovo Commission 527 adjustment of foreign policy goals 119
legality vs. legitimacy 527–528 attacks on PKK camps in Iraq 119
normative challenges 527–531 future of Kurds in northern Iraq
norms of humanitarian protection 118–120
529–530 rise of Islamism and terrorism 120–121
protective intervention justification 529 Turkish rapprochement with Syria and
‘‘responsibility to protect’’ 529 Iran 121–122
North–South divide 525–527 place in international system 117
capacities of Security Council 526–527 trans-regional cooperation between
sources 526 Europe and Middle East 122–125
546 INDEX
Turkey (cont.) Chapter VII demands on Iraq 220

common interests of Iraq’s neighbours enforcement of withdrawal from
123 Kuwait 221–222
cross-border issues 122–123 Iraqi invasion of Kuwait 219–220
‘‘danger zone’’, Turkey as 123 international response to 220
European regional order as model for use of force against 220
Middle East 124–125 no-fly zones 220–221
‘‘soft power’’ initiatives 125 violation of UN Charter by Iraq 222
unconventional security challenges and Iraq 2001–2005 222–229
122–124 Afghanistan and 226
Turkish perspective on Iraq war 114–133 alliance with US neoconservatives 230
importance of Turkey in Iraq conflict Commons vote on 225
114–115 criticisms of Prime Minister’s policy
Istanbul terrorist attacks 117 229
Turkey’s place in international system economic costs 231
117 legal issues 226–227
Turkish membership of NATO 116 military policy 228–229
Turkish parliament’s rejection of opinion polls 229
Turkey’s involvement 116–118 Palestine and 226
US pressure to send troops 117 political investigations 227–228
resignation of ministers 225
Unipolarity, globalization and the Concert two-level policy 230
of Powers 41–45 and Iraq until 1990 217–219
chasm between global North and global Iraqi invasion of Iran 219
South 43 Iraqi membership of League of Nations
critique of market-driven globalization 218
45 Kuwaiti independence 218
global North 41–42 nationalization of oil interests in Iran
globalization, meaning 44 218
and multilateral regimes 45 Ottoman Empire 217
neoliberal rhetoric 42–43 during World War I 217
New International Economic Order United Nations 62–66
(NIEO) 42 action on terrorism 204–205
presumed threat of Iranian nuclear in 1970s 204
proliferation 44 Beslan school attacks 209–210
Samuel Huntington on 44 and end of Cold War 204
‘‘unipolarity’’ 43–44 financial sanctions on al-Qaeda 209
Unipolarity and multilateralism in the age international rules and norms 205
of globalization 37–56 and Libya 205
continuities between Cold War and need for coordination 214
post–Cold War epochs 39 root causes 211
United Kingdom terrorism, definition 204
development of foreign policy on Iraq use of force 211
223–225 challenge to from US power 212
9/11 and 223 challenges to 4, 100–102
Iraq (‘‘dodgy)’’ dossier 224 distrust and hostility of Cold War era
Security Council negotiations 224 international relations 100
strategy towards Saddam Hussein’s domestically based international
regime 223 conflicts, problems resolving 101
and Iraq 1990–2001 219–222 and ethno-national conflicts 100
air patrols 221 rebuilding of Iraq 101
INDEX 547
Charter as ‘‘institutional bargain’’ 62 military occupation in relation to

Counter-Terrorism Committee United Nations 479–480
establishment 209 Pottery Barn principle 491–492
role 209 role of United Nations 491
creation of 62 role of United Nations in world order
damage caused by Iraq war 9 493
dialectic between civil society and 87–88 Security Council’s power to administer
double crisis of legitimacy 4–5 territory 484–486
evolution of response to terrorism 208 UN assertion of government powers
CTC, establishment of 209 480
sanctions, impact of 208–209 US need for UN assistance 492
Security Council, role of 208 primary responsibility of 6
evolving norms 62–66 redefining of security, responsibility and
forces of change 62–63 use of force 63–66
fundamental tensions 62–66 change within United Nations itself
High-level Panel on Threats, Challenges 65–66
and Change David Malone on 66
impact of 421 ‘‘human security’’ perspective 63–64
impact of Iraq war on initial norm entrepreneurial leadership
American role and 211–212 65
condemnation of terrorism 208 non-governmental organizations and
High-level Panel on Threats, 66
Challenges and Change 207, traditional concepts of security and
531 sovereignty 64
negative short-term impact 203 relations with United States 4–9
re-election of George W. Bush and five policy dilemmas 7–8
203–204 responsibilities in Iraq post-war 489–490
terrorism, defining 207 ‘‘reverse’’ approach 532
United Nations’ future prospects ‘‘revise’’ approach 532
211–212 role during and after Iraq war 102
importance of United States to 213–214 role of 3
need to re-engage United States 214 Security Council 5, 63
increased support 524 coalition, whether 522–523
institutional compact 62–66 role in Iraq war 400–404
interplay with anti-war movement 87 Security Council’s power to administer
multilateralism, embodiment of 5 territory 484–486
need for action by in Iraq 392 Bosnia 485
political function in occupation of Iraq drafting of UN Charter 484
487 growth in activism by Security Council
position on terrorism, three linked 485
concepts 210 lack of institutional capacity 485–486
post-Iraq war relations with occupying political barriers 486
powers 479–496 Trieste 484
Coalition Provisional Authority and and September 11th 205–206
UN responsibilities 479 change in approach to terrorism 206
instruments governing occupation law change in Security Council 210–211
480–481 Kofi Annan, role of after 206–207
invoking of occupation law in Iraq Resolution 1368 205
480 Resolution 1373 205–206
law of military occupation, see Military self-defence, meaning 206
occupation, law of shared interests with America 213
548 INDEX
United Nations (cont.) future prospects 367–374

states choosing to act outside 525 normative challenges 370–371
US ‘‘bullying’’ of 430–431 performance challenges 372–373
United Nations in Iraq 1980–2001 16–33 politics of state-building 367–370
five phases 17 restoring universality 373–374
inspections plus sanctions 25–29 structural challenge of unipolarity
insurgencies and humanitarian crisis 371–372
23–25 post–19 August 2003 364–367
Iran–Iraq: Cold War peacekeeping capture of Saddam Hussein 365
18–20 coalition policy incoherence 366
and Gorbachev 20 deterioration in security 364–365
United Nations Iran–Iraq Military elections 365–366
Observer Group 20 prisoner abuse 366
Iraq–Kuwait: towards peace enforcement United Nations Guards Contingent in Iraq
20–22 (UNGCI) 24–25
Iraqi exports 28 United Nations Iran–Iraq Military
new Iraqi disorder 23–25 Observer Group (UNIIMOG) 20
Operation ‘‘Provide Comfort’’ 24 United Nations Iraq–Kuwait Observer
Resolution 687 26–27 Mission (UNIKOM) 22–23
United Nations Guards Contingent in and muscular peacekeeping 22–23
Iraq 24–25 United States
United Nations Iraq–Kuwait Observer Bush’s foreign policy 427–429
Mission 22–23 doctrinal sidelining of multilateralism
United Nations as global regulator and 428–429
proxy administrator 25–29 ends of 427–428
United Nations in Iraq 2001–2005 357–378 impact of Iraqi elections 436–437
11 September 2001–20 March 2003 means of 428–429
357–360 negative impacts on international order
9/11 attacks 357–358 435–436
inspections-plus-sanctions approach positive impacts on international order
358 434–435
Resolution 1441 359 and theory of US power 427–429
Saddam Hussein’s defiance 358 vision of 427–428
United Nations as one source of constraints on power of 163–166
legitimacy 360 international cooperation, need for
Western intelligence failures 359 164
19 August 2003 362–364 modernization of developing countries
overreaction amongst UN staff 364 165
terrorist threat to United Nations 363 need for partners 163–166
truck-bomb attack on HQ of UN physical space of non-state actors 164
Assistance Mission for Iraq in root causes of terrorism 164
Baghdad 362–363 types of security threats 163–164
United Nations as stooge of Western willingness of other actors 163
interests 363 exceptionalism 9
20 March 2003–19 August 2003 360–362 geopolitics of US national interest in
development of Iraqi constitution practice 429–431
361–362 ‘‘bullying’’ of United Nations 430–431
diplomacy 362 Iraq war 430–431
ineffectiveness of UN approach 361 multilateralism ‘‘de circonstance’’
sidelining of United Nations 361 post-9/11 430
INDEX 549
road to unilateralism 429–430 Israelization of America 507–513

impact of 9/11 attacks 95–96 defending ‘‘civilization’’ 510–511
isolationism 8–9 hearts and minds strategies 511–512
Israel and, see United States and Israel Israeli influence in Senate 507
multilateralism 8 language of religiosity 512
need to adjust foreign policy of 439–440 major ally, Israel as 508
post–Cold War order and 98–102 military cooperation over Iraq 511
challenges to United Nations 100–102 religious background 507
changing profile of world order sentiments of affinity 508
99–100 shared enemy 509–510
disengagement from international shared vision of enemy 512
commitments 98 ‘‘West’’, membership of 509
doctrine of pre-emptive war 99 strategies 498–501
impact of 9/11 98 from theory to policy 505–507
quest for centrality in world affairs 98 democracy vs. dictatorship 506
rejection of international agreements ‘‘distinctly American internationalism’’
397–398 506
relations with United Nations 4–9 neoconservatives’ ideas becoming US
unilateralism 5 policy 505
uni-multipolarity in international system
169–171 Weapons of mass destruction (WMD)
building of ad hoc coalitions 171 acquisition of 53
conflict resolution 169–170 closed societies developing 407
reform of international law 170 double standard on nuclear weapons 391
US hegemony and world order 115–118 existence of in Iraq 96
United States and Israel 497–516 and Iraq war 390–392
Arab–Israeli conflict, consequences of ‘‘loophole’’ in Nuclear
497 Non-Proliferation Treaty 391
and Cold War 497–498 Iraq war as model for controlling
enemies 498–501 393–394
identities 498–501 non-state actors’ use of 418
incubating war on terror 501–505 and terrorism 390–391
civilized, definition of 504–505 unlawful production of 418
linking Israeli and Western security and ‘‘wars of choice’’ 392
concerns 503 Wilson, Joseph C.
roadmap to war on terror 502–503 on Iraq–Kuwait 19
‘‘terrorism evil beyond redemption’’ Win Without War coalition 77
504 media communications 85
terrorism studies 501–502 virtual organizing 77–78
use of ‘‘terror’’ 504 World order
utility of terror 502 meaning 520
The Iraq Crisis and World Order: Structural, Institutional and
Normative Challenges
Edited by Ramesh Thakur and Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu
Contributors: The Iraq war was a multiple assault on the foundations and rules
Ramesh Thakur
of the existing UN-centred world order. It called into question the
Waheguru Pal
Singh Sidhu adequacy of the existing institutions for articulating global norms
David M. Malone and enforcing compliance with the demands of the international
James Cockayne community. It highlighted also the unwillingness of some key coun-
Mohammed Ayoob tries to wait until definitive proof before acting to meet the danger of
Matthew Zierler the world’s most destructive weapons falling into the hands of the
Brian L. Job world’s most dangerous regimes. It was simultaneously a test of the
David Cortright UN’s willingness and ability to deal with brutal dictatorships and a
Latif Abul-Husn
searching scrutiny of the nature and exercise of American power.
Ayla Göl
Anoushiravan The United States is the world’s indispensable power, but the Unit-
Ehteshami
ed Nations is the world’s indispensable institution. The UN Security
Mark A. Heller
Ibrahim A. Karawan Council is the core of the international law enforcement system and
Amin Saikal the chief body for building, consolidating and using the authority of
Jane Boulden the international community. The United Nations has the primary
Thomas G. Weiss responsibility to maintain international peace and security, and
A.J.R. Groom is structured to discharge this responsibility in a multipolar world
Sally Morphet where the major powers have permanent membership of the key
Jean-Marc Coicaud collective security decision-making body, namely the UN Security
Hélène Gandois
Council.
Lysette Rutgers
Ekaterina Stepanova The emergence of the United States as the sole superpower after
Harald Mueller
the end of the Cold War distorted the structural balance in the UN
Chiyuki Aoi
Yozo Yokota schema. Progress towards a world of a rules-based, civilized inter-
Mónica Serrano national order requires that US force be put to the service of lawful
Paul Kenny international authority. This book examines these major normative
Hasan Askari Rizvi and structural challenges from a number of different perspectives.
Fred Tanner
Luis Martinez Ramesh Thakur is the Senior Vice-Rector of the United Nations
David Krieger University, Japan, and an Assistant Secretary-General of the United
Charlotte Ku Nations.
Ruth Wedgwood Waheguru Pal Singh Sidhu is a Faculty Member at the Geneva
Nicholas J. Wheeler Centre for Security Policy, Switzerland.
Justin Morris
Simon Chesterman
Tarak Barkawi
Order from:
Book information:
ISBN 92-808-1128-2;
556pp; US$49.00
53-70, Jingumae 5-chome, Shibuya-ku, Tokyo 150-8925, Japan

Tel +81-3-3499-2811; Fax +81-3-3406-7345
E-mail: sales@hq.unu.edu; http://www.unu.edu

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THE

EDITED BY RAMESH THAKUR AND WAHEGURU PAL SINGH SIDHU

United Nations University Press

United Nations University Ofﬁce at the United Nations, New York

Cover design by Rebecca S. Neimark, Twenty-Six Letters

Printed in Hong Kong

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Part I: Framing the issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

1 Iraq’s challenge to world order . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3

2 Lines in the sand: The United Nations in Iraq, 1980–2001 . . . . . 16

Part II: Structural and normative challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35

3 The unipolar concert: Unipolarity and multilateralism in the

4 International peace and security and state sovereignty:

5 The world says no: The global movement against war

Part III: Perspectives from within the region . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

6 Iraq and world order: A Lebanese perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95

7 Iraq and world order: A Turkish perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114

8 Iran’s assessment of the Iraq crisis and the post-9/11

9 The Iraq crisis and world order: An Israeli perspective . . . . . . . . . 161

10 Egypt and the Iraq war . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175

11 Reactions in the Muslim world to the Iraq conﬂict . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187

Part IV: External actor perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201

12 The United States and the United Nations in light of wars on

13 Baghdad to Baghdad: The United Kingdom’s odyssey . . . . . . . . . 217

14 Explaining France’s opposition to the war against Iraq . . . . . . . . . 234

15 Iraq and world order: A Russian perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249

16 Iraq and world order: A German perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265

17 Avoiding a strategic failure in the aftermath of the Iraq war:

18 Iraq and world order: A Latin American perspective . . . . . . . . . . . 298

19 Iraq and world order: A Pakistani perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315

20 Iraq and world order: A perspective on NATO’s relevance . . . . 328

21 The Iraq crisis and world order: A perspective from the

22 Quicksand? The United Nations in Iraq, 2001–2005 . . . . . . . . . . . . 357

Part V: International legal and doctrinal issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379

23 The war in Iraq as illegal and illegitimate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381

24 Legitimacy as an assessment of existing legal standards:

25 The multinational action in Iraq and international law . . . . . . . . . 413

26 Iraq and the social logic of international security . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 426

27 Justifying the Iraq war as a humanitarian intervention:

28 The responsibility to protect and the war on Saddam

29 Post-war relations between occupying powers and the United

30 ‘‘Common enemies’’: The United States, Israel and the world

Part VI: Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 517

31 Structural and normative challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 519

Professor Ramesh Thakur is Senior International Relations, Michigan

Dr Chiyuki Aoi is Associate Professor Mr James Cockayne is an Associate at

Dr David Cortright is president of the Dr Charlotte Ku is Executive Director

Dr David Krieger is President of the Professor Amin Saikal is Director of

Asia), Australian National Professor Ruth Wedgwood is Edward

The United Nations (UN) is a collective instrument for organizing a vol-

transatlantic relationship. Post-war Iraq conﬁrms that it is easier to wage

Relations between the United States and

The United Nations has the primary responsibility to maintain inter-

not lessen the innate American suspicion of overseas entanglements at

gagement.11 A world in which every country retreated into unilateralism

Was the war inevitable?

In September 2002 President George W. Bush famously warned the

lateralism were cornered by the moral clarity of an administration willing

Iraq as a political earthquake

Wars are cataclysmic events. Out of the destruction of major wars

resilient to survive the withdrawal of a foreign presence in due course.

The long list of fundamental changes suggests that we will continue to

Outline of the book

and, second, the unilateral imposition by France, the United Kingdom